A New Balance
by XxPhoenix FlightxX
Summary: Sequel to A New Beauty. Slade has been reunited with his long-lost son, but is it more than he can handle? Jericho has a lot of adjusting left to do after years of unknown torment, and is very torn about what he wants to do with his new life. Can he be Slade's apprentice? Can Slade be a father again? Or will it all fall apart before they get the chance? Rated M for mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**If anyone is wondering, I took down this original story and replaced it with only the first 8k words. Before that, it was about 28k words, and it wasn't really getting any attention. I am hoping that it's just the fact that it's so long and not because it's bad... Anyway, if people respond well I'll put the rest of in parts over time. I have no schedule for this, but know that it's all written out. It's just a matter of feeling motivated to put it out there.**

 **Anyway, a few quick notes. This is a second part to A New Beauty, and it is pretty much a required read. It's pretty short though so it shouldn't take too long to read if you haven't. Also, the rating is K for now, might move up to K+ in the next part, but by the end of it I will definitely change it back to its original T rating.**

 **Disclaimer: Do not own blah blah blah just read it.**

* * *

The boy looked a bit odd, sitting in the back seat of the SUV. He was still dirty and unkempt, looking a bit pale, which was a contrast to the clean, shining leather interior to the car. Will had picked them up, which was the plan from the beginning. No one said anything at all. Back at the compound, after Joseph had calmed down again, Slade had signaled Will and led the boy outside for the first time in years. William did keep glancing back in the rearview mirror, but kept his questions and thoughts to himself for the time being. Will was a good friend, and Slade appreciated the man's trust in him.

It was a long drive, and Joseph was fast asleep by the time they made it back to Deathstroke's current base. Slade carried him in, and he didn't even wake up. There was already a room prepared, though it was very basic. Slade put him in bed, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders. He stopped for a few minutes, watching Joseph. He hadn't tucked his son into bed in several years; he was so different. He had to be at least seventeen… had it really been so long? Slade felt a pang of guilt for no longer remembering the exact year, but time was starting to pass differently for him. Slade pushed his hair out of his son's face. It had grown quite long. Who knew when the last time he'd had a haircut was? Or been given a chance to clean up, or even eat a meal?

Slade's heart clenched. He'd track down every single person involved in Joseph's mistreatment and kill them. Some were already dead, he knew, but a few were still alive. They had to be; who else would be punished if not them? The Justice League were a separate issue entirely, of course, but he'd find a way to get back at them eventually. How dare they lock up a child, ultimately leaving him to die? Even if Joseph had been trained as a weapon and experimented on, he was still just a boy and a human being at that, not some monster.

Slade left, feeling his anger boil up in his core. He left the room, shutting the door, and went to brief Wintergreen on the situation. Will was in the kitchen, brewing some tea and gearing for a long discussion. Slade sat at the kitchen table and both remained quiet while Will finished steeping the tea, pouring some into two mugs and bringing them both to the table. He set one in front of Slade, taking a seat and folding his hands.

"He looks like Joey."

Slade took a sip, staring into his mug. "He is."

William looked at him sharply. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know until I saw him, and even then it was hard to believe," Slade explained.

William put his head into his hands. "I'm too old for this... How did this happen?"

Slade took the time to explain everything he knew to Will. From Joseph's regenerative ability that must have kept him alive after getting his throat slashed open, to what Slade believed had happened to him over the past decade or so. His anger showed, and he expressed his plans to hunt down anyone who'd been involved.

"Slade, you have him back," Will reminded him. "Don't lose him again by running off for revenge. He must need you the most right now."

"I know that, Will," Slade sighed. "I don't want to abandon him, but I can't allow anyone to live who's harmed my family. He was only a child…"

"His eyes…" William mused to himself. "They look exactly like Addie's, and it also looks like someone tried to cut them out."

"They might have, presumably Cadmus," said Slade. He'd thought about it for the last hour, earlier even, since he first noticed the scars. "I doubt anyone else would have wanted to leave him blind, if they wanted an assassin. His eyes must have grown back."

Will grimaced, growing a bit paler. "That poor boy…"

"We'll get him back on his feet," Slade said with determination in his eyes. "He'll be alright." He wanted Joseph to get better; he wanted his son to live without the fear in his eyes and skittish behavior, afraid of every sharp movement. Slade would be damned if he couldn't help the boy overcome his fears and mental scarring. It could take a long time, but it was the least he could do to make things right, next to killing everyone responsible. "In the morning, he can get cleaned up, have a hot meal, and we'll have more of a talk. When he's ready, days or weeks or months from now, I'll start training him."

"Slade," William warned, "don't you _dare_ push that boy. After everything he's been through; he's been forced to train to fight and kill since childhood, I'm sure the last thing he will want to do is pick it back up. You remember how he used to be- he was the sweetest child, couldn't harm a fly."

"I can help him overcome the negative influence it's had on him," Slade insisted. "He can work with me as I planned, given enough time."

"Let's hope so…"

* * *

It was hard to truly grasp reality sometimes. Joseph was alive and Slade was just resisting the urge to pinch himself. It was all too surreal.

Slade hardly slept that night, and got up earlier than usual. William was awake, too, making breakfast.

"There's enough here to feed a small army," Slade said as he entered the kitchen.

"What? The poor boy is a walking skeleton! I'm sure he needs all the food he can get."

"He'll need his rest, too," the younger man pointed out. "Who knows when he'll wake up."

"The oven is on, if I need to keep anything warm I can keep it in there for a while."

Slade didn't argue. He didn't blame Will at all, either. Joseph certainly needed a little extra care, and William Wintergreen was the perfect man for the job. He was the boy's godfather, after all. Slade was unsure of his own abilities to pick the role of being a father back up, but with his oldest and closest friend around, he felt that Joey was in good care.

A few hours later, the sun had risen, and Slade decided to check on Joey. He went down the hall, quietly opening the door. The teen was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, which was already made. He looked up at Slade, expectantly. Of course. Slade couldn't expect him to feel comfortable wandering around a new place on the first day.

"You're awake. Well," Slade almost found himself fumbling for words, "William made some breakfast. You can clean up in the bathroom a bit, and there's some spare clothes that should fit you already in the dresser. When you're ready, come out to the kitchen to eat.

The blonde only nodded, standing up and going into the en suite bathroom. Slade left, shutting the door and letting out a heavy breath. Already this felt more difficult than he'd realized it would be. How was he supposed to act? Finding out that this boy was his son, formerly thought to be _dead_ changed everything. He went back out to the kitchen.

"Joey's awake," he said. "He'll be out soon."

"Alright, I'll set the table." Will was practically bouncing around with enthusiasm. It made Slade smile and relax a bit. This was a good thing. It might be a little hard for them all to get used to at first, but that was fine. The rewards were well worth the sacrifices; plans could be altered.

It was about half an hour later when Joseph came into the kitchen. With all the dirt, blood, and grime that had covered the boy, Slade had expected it to take a little longer, but he looked perfectly clean. The only remnant of his wild look that remained was the length of his hair, still curling and forming waves even when damp, and falling into the teen's eyes.

William huffed slightly, appearing overcome with emotions. He stepped forward, reaching out, but Joseph stepped back, looking at him sharply. Slade tensed, waiting to see what happened. Will, of course, didn't miss a beat. He clapped his hands together gently, staying in one spot, smiling.

"It's good to see you again, Joey. I made a big breakfast, I'm sure you're famished, so please, have as much as you'd like."

If Wintergreen couldn't even touch Joseph, then he'd surely drown him in food instead. The man couldn't not show his affection, even if he had to do it in ways he hadn't planned.

While Will got the food, Slade spoke up. "This is William Wintergreen, I've known him since before you were born. We were in the army together, and he's your godfather."

Joseph gave a short nod in greeting but still didn't speak.

"Come, take a seat," Slade said, leading the way and sitting on one side of the table next to Will. Joseph walked carefully, and took a seat across from them both, where William had placed a plate piled high with different kinds of breakfast food. He sat stiffly, seeming unsure. Slade took the lead once more, beginning to eat, and Wintergreen did the same. Joseph followed suit, picking up a fork and eating slowly, with small bites. Looking at him, and watching the way he ate, one wouldn't think he was that hungry at all.

"Joseph?" Slade said. The boy mumbled something, not looking up. "Speak up, I can't hear you."

"J-Jericho... " he answered. "I'd prefer that, if it's alright, sir."

Slade only nodded. He didn't like it, not one bit, but this was about making the boy comfortable.

"Jericho it is, then. If you're not hungry, you don't have to eat."

"Of course not," Will added quickly. Neither of them believed that Jericho could be anything less than starving at this point, but if he hadn't eaten in a long time, his stomach could have shrunk as well.

Jericho didn't seem to have an answer, and only gave an unsure nod. Slade thought for a moment. Every minute this was proving to be harder and harder. Good thing he wasn't a quitter. He ate until his plate was empty, and cleared his throat.

"Sorry to leave so quickly, but I've got a few calls I need to make," he said, standing up. He gave Will a look, hoping he would understand what they needed to do.

"Yes, I should be getting started on cleaning the pots and pans as well," the older man added. "I'll leave what's left of the food here, eat as much as you'd like."

"Right. And, Jericho, when you've eaten enough come find me in the study. It's just down the hallway."

They both left him there, moving into the separated half of the kitchen where the cooking was done. They stood in silence, listening, and sure enough the soft sounds of a fork scraping a plate could soon be heard. Slade took a chance and looked in, seeing the boy eat at a much more enthusiastic, though still somewhat subdued pace. He leaned away with a soft sigh, and together he and William moved to the study where they could talk without being overheard.

"That poor child…." Will said at once. "What can we even do to help him?"

"He just needs time, that's all," Slade answered. "This isn't the kind of life he's used to, so he'll need help transitioning. It's like taking in a stray dog; once he grows to trust us more he'll be able to relax."

William pursed his lips. "I suppose… But if I can't give him a haircut, I'll go crazy!"

A little while later, Jericho timidly stepped in, knocking on the door. Slade nodded to him.

"Finished?" A nod. "Good, then. This is the study, where half of your learning will take place. A lot of research and preparation goes into my job, it's about more than knowing how to fight and kill people. Have you ever had to plan or prepare for a mission?"

"No, sir."

"Well, you'll get to learn. And, if you like, you're welcome to call me Slade, and to call Will by his name as well."

Jericho made a soft humming sound but didn't say anything else. Slade decided not to press it. He took the boy on a short tour through the base. Though it wasn't a house, it was pretty home-y. Maybe not too cozy, but liveable. It housed two former military men after all. The tour was short, as most of their time would be spent in the study or down a level in the vast training room. Slade took his time showing that one off, knowing Jericho was more likely to appreciate the collection of weapons than a collection of textbooks.

"That's it," he said. "A week from today, we can start lightly and work our way up from there. In the meantime, William thinks you are in need of a haircut, and I agree."

Jericho nodded and followed Slade back up to the kitchen, where Will was waiting.

"There you are," he greeted them warmly. "Jericho, would you be alright with a bit of a haircut."

The blonde nodded but still seemed a bit reluctant to step forward and sit on the stool. He moved very slowly, watching William with sharp eyes, reminding Will a little bit of the way a cat watches things that it doesn't know are safe or not. He waited patiently and produced a towel, clipping it like a cloak around the teen's shoulders.

He started slow, a hand just barely brushing Jericho's shoulder. The boy was tense, flinching, though it was hard to see. "Any preferences?"

Jericho shrugged.

"Remember," Slade said, "this man was in the army. If you don't speak up he might just buzz it all off." He was teasing, to lighten the mood and help the boy relax, but he was also a little serious. William had been known to do that. Jericho's eyes widened a bit.

"N-not…. Too short, please, sir?" he said.

"Alright," agreed Will. "Not too short."

Will got started, while Slade stayed to the side to watch. Jericho was tense, but very slowly he started to relax. William kept chatting idly to him, and that seemed to help. Soon, his newly clean yellow curls covered his ears and framed his face slightly, but he no longer 'looked like a jungle boy' in Will's words. He gave a very small but sincere smile when he saw what it looked like in the mirror, pleased with the results.

For the rest of the day, Slade let Jericho stay with him in the study while he worked, because it's what the boy seemed most comfortable with. But, he was at a complete loss as to what to even say or do. All of his plans, his training schedules, were out the window. Jericho looked as lost as he felt, at least. Little was spoken between them, but neither particularly minded.

Slade told Jericho he could read or look at anything he liked in the study, and eventually the blonde did start glancing through books. He settled on a travelling guide, a very thick volume that had a lot of pictures and information. He poured over it, looking at all the different places in the world to travel. Slade made a mental note to start planning ahead for a trip abroad. It might do the boy some good to see more of the world.

Besides looking through books, Jericho curled up in the large chairs, dozing off. He was still recovering after all, which was why Slade wanted to give him a week to do nothing but rest and relax a little. Eventually, it was time for dinner, and after that, bed. Dinner was quiet; Jericho ate just a bit better in the presence of the others compared to this morning, which was a good sign. They were starting to gain his trust. Slade sent Jericho to bed, and the three men retired for the night.

Late that night, or early the next morning, Slade left his room and stepped quietly down the hall. He opened the door to Jericho's bedroom, letting in a fraction of light. Inside he could see no more than a mop of blonde hair poking out from under the covers, but it was enough. From then on, he looked into the room every night, just because he could never really believe it.

* * *

The first weeks were surprisingly hard on the teen. He'd expected everything to just be okay, and while they were definitely better, he didn't feel okay. He realized that there was a large gap to be filled. Deathstroke (he had a hard time remembering to think of him as 'father') had rescued his son, and in his mind expected to get his son back. Jericho (he had the same problems reattaching the name 'Joseph' to himself) was no one's son. Slade's son had been killed, and Jericho had taken his place psychologically to stay alive.

He wanted desperately to please the man, as he did with all his masters, but couldn't get into the proper role. He was an assassin, a tool, a soldier. He could be many things, but he'd stopped being anyone's child so long ago that he forgot how. He addressed both William and Slade as 'sir', and they did their best to be understanding, gently reminding him from time to time that their names would be appropriate. The boy would remember for a little while, but old habits die hard. He would also stand at attention, stay in place unless he was prompted to go elsewhere, and only seemed willing to do what he was directly told to do, no more.

Slade knew that it would take a long time to break such habits that had been ingrained into him, likely with the threat of pain and suffering, no doubt, so he kept his patience. Not that the behavior was irritating, not really. It was difficult to see Joey like this. The son he'd lost was so different from the boy in front of him now, and he was beginning to see that the Joey he knew was truly lost. That didn't mean he would give up, however. Just because Joseph was different as a teen than as a child, didn't mean that he was any less Slade's son. It would only take time…

As the first week ended, and the training began, it was clear that Jericho was not adjusting as well as they'd hoped. He was tense and anxious, always needing something to do, some way to serve… Slade tried to comply, giving him makeshift homework assignments, to occupy his mind and let him continue his training in some way, to ease the transition. For now the boy learned about the robotics Slade used, how to build and repair it. However, it just wasn't enough.

Slade sparred with him when possible, but despite being used to such a thing, the boy wasn't used to sparring with Slade. He held back, as if afraid to somehow _hurt_ the man. It was a laughable thought, to be honest, but it only attested to the boy's skills; if he had to hold back to prevent himself from hurting previous masters. Still, it was troublesome because when the boy held back, it made Slade hold back, and soon enough they were barely hitting each other. It was during one of these very moments that the boy started to snap.

"What do you want from me?" he asked suddenly, blocking a hit. Slade stopped his half-hearted attack, holding off to address this. Clearly the boy was upset.

"Serious sparring, for one," the man answered. "You hold back far too much, and so you're not making progress."

"No-! I mean…." Jericho's breath got caught up in his throat, and he threw his hands up. "I just don't know what to _do_. Do you expect me to be your son again? Do you want to train me to be your partner? I can't tell what you want."

It was by far the most Jericho had spoken since Slade brought him here, so it must be important to him. Slade let out a breath and set his bo-staff against the wall, gesturing for Jericho to do the same. They couldn't go on like this, he knew, and he'd been expecting something like this for a few days at least. He knew the boy was confused, and he knew that he would have to help ease him forward. "Alright, then let's have a seat and talk for a bit."

"Yes, sir."

Slade led them out of the training room, and into the downstairs kitchen area. He waved a hand for Jericho to sit at the table, and sat across from the boy. He let out a breath, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Jo- Jericho. I know this is hard for you, and I expected we would have some kind of difficulty. However, the line between roles seems to be causing you trouble, correct?"

The boy looked down at his hands, held in his lap. "Yes sir…"

"Well, explain it a bit to me. Tell me how you're feeling and why you're feeling that way."

Jericho opened his mouth, seeming as though he wanted to protest, but he stopped. He already knew that the man would push for answers if he felt he needed to and this seemed to be a matter he was determined to get to the bottom of. The blonde spoke softly, "I don't know how…. I don't know how to be your son, or even your apprentice for that matter."

The man gave a simple nod. "I understand that. For a moment, let's put a pin on the first half, and for a minute pretend that we have no relation. I know you haven't had a family since you can remember, so it's only natural that you won't know how to behave as someone's son. I myself am a little rusty in the role of a father, so I can understand your confusion. Let's work on the second part first, alright?"

The boy sat, dumbstruck for a moment, before he burst out, "That! I don't know what that means!" The man raised an eyebrow, leaning back, and Jericho sighed. "No master has ever been kind, or understanding. No one has ever… talked to me before I met you. Only orders, instructions."

"Then your previous masters have all been terrible teachers, haven't they?" Slade pointed out. "I've found that… if I have to force a student into submission, and push them to their limits, it only breaks them down and makes them defiant. I want you to trust me, but that's something I know is earned over time. As long as you're willing to work with me, then there should be no reason to be harsh with you. I'm not trying to break you down, I don't need to do that to build you up, do you understand that?"

Jericho half-shrugged. "I guess…. It's not like I don't appreciate it, I just don't know how to react. When you act that way, I feel like it's because you see me as your son. Is that what you want me to be? Or do you really want me for an apprentice?"

"I think you're right about the way I see you," Slade admitted. "But unlike you, I do remember you as my son, even if you've forgotten that time in your life. I can't not see you that way, and it certainly does affect my actions towards you, even if I don't mean it to. Did you know that I trained your older brother as well?"

The boy's eyes widened. "I have a brother?"

Slade frowned slightly, looking to the side. "Had. He followed in my footsteps and was killed in action. I wasn't there when he needed me; we didn't always get along and he would go off on his own, because he was trying to prove himself all the time." He let out a deep sigh. "What I'm trying to say is… You aren't like him, at all. I could train Grant as my son without going too easy on him.

"But you- we lost you. Now that I have you back again a part of me is too afraid of losing you or seeing you get hurt to push you as hard as I should. I remember how you were growing up, kindhearted and sensitive, empathetic and loving. I know that you're older now, and that you can handle the pressure of being trained fairly, but I keep holding back, and I'm not the only one." He looked pointedly at the blonde, who looked at the floor at his feet.

"I guess you're right about that, I hold back as well," Jericho admitted. "I'm so confused, not knowing what you expect of me. I don't want to go full force, even though I know it wouldn't really hurt you. I'm different now… Now that I remember who I am, and now that I've fully realized what I've been through, if that makes sense."

"It does," the man told him. "I understand. Maybe it will help if I tell you what I do expect of you. I expect your absolute best. No more holding back, no hesitation. If it helps, just view me as a teacher, and show me what you can do. If you stop holding back, I'll stop going easy on you. Deal?"

The boy's wide green eyes were looking up at him, shimmering slightly. They were his mother's eyes, eyes that Slade would never forget. Eyes that Slade now knew held the key to a meta-human ability, although the boy had been harshly trained out of ever using it. That didn't matter, though, he was skilled enough without extra powers.

"Deal," Jericho agreed.

* * *

After that, the boy started to improve at a faster rate. Slade made a conscious effort to stop holding back in his training, and Jericho learned to set aside his feelings to keep up with it, eventually getting over his confliction. He learned quickly, showing off his skills and abilities. Still, there was something missing.

"I think he's just forgotten how to be happy," Will suggested one evening. It was after dinner, and Jericho had gone to bed. He had been quiet, as usual, not speaking more than he had to and eating slowly. "You've gotten him to settle into his role as your apprentice, but that's all it is."

"That's all he seems to be able to handle," said Slade. He sat at the table, where he'd been trying to come up with a solution all night. "Trying to do both confuses him."

Will turned to look at the younger man harshly. "And you chose to put him in that position over the one he should naturally be in?" He scoffed, turning back to the dishes he was washing. "I'm sure he can be gradually assimilated into both positions. Anyhow, if you don't want to pick the _correct_ option…. Work on connecting with him. Not over training, but over other things."

"Like what?" Slade asked incredulously.

"Things he might be interested in," answered William. "As a child he had a lot of different interests, remember?"

Slade did remember; Joseph had been vastly different from not only his brother, but his parents as well. In a military family, he clung to things like art, and music. He couldn't be coaxed to learn how to shoot a gun or fight like Grant had. Slade frowned. "He's different now. He never used to want to fight or use weaponry but now it's all he knows. Will he even like the same things as before?"

Will rolled his eyes. "I honestly can't believe I have to spoon-feed you everything. There's no way you'll know if you don't try, Slade. Take him out to the city. Jump is full of things to do. Take him to a movie or an art gallery and see if he likes them. If he doesn't, then take him to a sports game or out fishing or hunting until you find something he does like. Or-!" the older man threw his hands up into the air, splashing soap and water, "maybe even ask him! Now _there's an idea_!"

Slade's frown deepened and he stood up. "I could do without the sarcasm, thank you," he grumbled, making his way out of the kitchen to retire for the night.

"And I could do without having to hold your hand the whole way…" William said in response, making sure it was loud enough for Slade to hear on his way out. Well, Jericho was certainly not an easy child to care for. He was well-mannered and polite, of course, but he had a lot of adjusting left to do. While it may be a bit much for just one man, William was still annoyed at times at how dense that one man could be about simple things like this. At least he seemed to take the advice seriously.

True enough, a day or two later, after breakfast, Slade proposed that Jericho come with him on an outing to a museum in the city. The young man was a bit confused, at first, as this was certainly unexpected.

"A museum?" he asked. "Are…. you contracted to steal something there?"

"No," the man answered simply.

"A test of the security?" The boy raised an eyebrow, bewildered.

"No."

"Are we scouting for information?"

"Not that."

Jericho let out a heavy sigh of frustration. "Then why are we going to the museum?"

"To see exhibits, nothing more," Slade finally told him. "Just as a normal, casual, visit. To take a break and… have some fun."

The blonde looked at his father as if he'd suddenly grown an extra head. "For fun?"

"Yes," the man said firmly. "You know what they say, all work and no play. It'll be good to have a day off, especially since you've never actually had one."

The boy looked down, thinking it over. It was true, while he had breaks, and 'easy' days over the years, never had he truly had a whole day off of work and training. And certainly never to have fun. He couldn't clearly remember the last time he'd had _fun_. Again, there were easier times in training, and he had had moments where he felt good about improving his skills or accomplishing tasks, but… _fun_? No, not at all. He looked back up at the man across the table from him. "Is this… because I'm your son? Or your apprentice?"

Slade thought about it for a second before answering confidently. "Both. Perhaps this is more for you as my son, but even an apprentice needs days off now and again. Does it sound alright to you? Is there anything else in particular you'd rather do?"

Jericho shook his head. "No, sir, a museum sounds fine."

Even if he agreed out of obedience, Jericho found himself inwardly excited, which was a foreign feeling to him at this point. He was nervous, of course, about spending casual time with the man, but it was still an overall positive opportunity for him.

"Alright, change into some street clothes and we'll head out."

* * *

The boy was still quite skittish, especially in public, surrounded by people. He was unused to being in such a large crowd- that is, without having to fight or kill anyone. Slade stayed close, putting a comforting hand on Jericho's shoulder when he felt that the blonde needed it, which seemed to soothe him. It was interesting to Slade, seeing as the boy didn't seem to want or couldn't handle viewing Slade as a father, always being awkward with physical communication, but in this setting, it looked like even something nerve-wracking could be comforting, if it was the only familiar thing happening. It was a weekday, though, and the morning for that matter, so not many people were would hate to see him stuck in a setting with more people than this.

By the time they arrived at the museum, got past the tension, and Jericho showed real interest in the exhibits. He seemed curious, and eager to learn, which Slade was pleased to see. He wanted to be able to teach his son, not only skills of his trade, but also general knowledge. Anything he could think of to expand the boy's mind. He'd been training hard for years, but he'd also been cut off from so many things. Asking questions and learning helped to calm and distract him, which was exactly what Slade was hoping for. If they made this a regular thing, it would help Jericho progress, letting him slowly assimilate back into the normal world. Will had been right to suggest this.

"That looks like an ugly lion," Jericho said softly, making Slade chuckle.

"It's an incense burner," he said. "It's supposed to be carved to look like a deity of death, possibly the Aztec god, Mictlantecuhtli." The blonde looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you know everything?"

"Well, nearly," Slade said with a slight smirk, pointing to a small placard. "but I can also read the description."

Jericho flushed bright red, looking annoyed, but not seriously. He was starting to get used to the man's dry sense of humor. "I can _read_ , I just didn't see-"

He was interrupted by the alarms going off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Instinctively, Slade pulled him closer, a sharp eye scanning the area for immediate danger. There were sounds of things breaking, people shouting, but it was still somewhat far off. Everyone around them seemed confused, too afraid to move or do anything. As best that Slade could guess, there was a break in, but in another area nearby. The Titans were probably already on their way, but he didn't care about that, he wasn't in uniform. He spent a lot of time traveling through the city as a citizen, almost on a daily basis.

No, what he was worried about was protecting Jericho, who was already starting to fall apart. Slade tried to think of a way to get them both out of the building without blowing his cover as an everyday citizen. Obviously, he could easily fight his way out, guessing that some HIVE students were the culprits this time, but he couldn't do that in this setting. For now, all he could do was act as the other citizens did, and try to keep Jericho calm.

The blonde had gone impossibly tense at the sound of alarms, and by the look in his eye, he was trying desperately to find himself again. Years of relentless training told him to respond to alarms, to immediately prepare for a fight, to protect a master or achieve a goal. Fortunately, he was holding himself back, but at a cost. He was trying to reject his programming, so to speak, which wasn't an easy task. Slade was happy that he knew he shouldn't leap into action, here, but still concerned for the state it was putting him in.

Jericho's breathing started to grow shorter, and more frantic. He was hugging himself tightly, eyes transfixed on the ground. Slade recognized the growing panic attack, and pulled the boy to sit on the ground against the wall with him, shielding him from anyone who would walk through the doorway. Other patrons in the room were starting to react, speaking in loud whispers, trying to decide if they should try to escape or hide. No one seemed to notice the man and his son.

"Easy," Slade spoke softly. "Breathe. Take deep breaths. There you go, now another one. Can you hear me? Good. You're doing well, just stick by my side and act ordinary. Now is not the time for action. If something goes terribly, I'll take care of it. Nothing bad will happen to you, and I don't expect you to fight. You don't have to do that anymore, it's not your job to protect me. I protect you. Do you understand me? Good. Keep breathing, you're alright."

He kept talking, giving Jericho something to focus on. With something solid to cling to, a train of thought to guide him, his torn psyche was at peace. He had orders, in a way. Stay low, don't fight. He thought of it as an undercover operation, and they couldn't blow that cover for anything. Thinking of it like that helped him cope, and calm down again. There was a plan, everything was already taken care of.

"Is your boy alright?"

Slade glanced up, seeing an elderly couple semi-crouched beside them, clearly having decided not to run away. He already had a response, and the white lies flowed easily from his mouth.

"He'll be okay, he was just nearly put into a panic attack," Slade explained calmly, one hand soothingly rubbing Jericho's arm and shoulder, keeping him focused. "He's been through some rough times, the noises startled him."

They nodded knowingly, and Slade suspected that the man was a war veteran. He could have served in the same war that Slade himself did. "I see," said the old man. "I remember those days. Things got better for me, I hope they do for your son as well."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," cooed the old woman, towards the young man. "The Titans will be here soon, nothing bad will happen."

The boy didn't respond, and none of them could be sure he heard her at all. All was relatively silent for a moment until something crashed through a wall, breaking several glass cases and disturbing the artifacts. A figure pulled itself out of the rubble, dusting themselves off, and this was the first Jericho saw of any Titan.

It was a large man- no, wait -robot? No, there was a word for this, the blonde just couldn't remember what it was. At any rate, he was a human, partially made up of robotic parts that all had blue circuitry. One arm was formed into a cannon, which he fired back into the room he'd come from on the other side of the wall.

"Booyah!" he shouted, which was weird to Jericho, but something….fascinating. Something new; an enthusiastic battle cry. Beside him, Slade sort of twitched, like he was tensing up but quickly relaxed again. The robotic teen charged back into the apparent fight, and now with the wall busted open, it was more audible. Jericho listened closely, his brain working fast, as usual. He may not be fighting, but his analyzing skills were never shut off. He counted eight distinct voices. One of them, though, echoed, as if multiple people, but with the exact same voice.

There wasn't much to see from here, even with the hole in the wall, but he kept his gaze sharp, taking in everything. Flashes of light, mostly blue, presumably from the robotic Titan's cannon, and some green. Brief glimpses of bodies, moving fluidly in the action of the fight. Mostly, he heard their battle cries, and quickly familiarized himself with each, imagining the identities of each person based on their voices and the way they talked. It wasn't always accurate, but it had helped him in the past to get an idea of who he might be up against.

In only minutes, the fight seemed to be over. Civilians started to rise again from where they were hiding, already relaxing again. A lot of them were used to it by now, and it wasn't that big of a deal. Slade stood up, holding Jericho gently by the arm, anxious to get out of here, hoping they wouldn't run into the Titans directly. Would the Justice League know about Jericho's escape? If they did, would they bother to tell the Titans? Slade couldn't let anyone find Jericho again, that was for certain.

"Is everyone alright?" Raven's monotone preceded her into the room. She lowered her hood, scanning the room. Slade knew she was looking for any injuries that might need healing, but there were none. Seeing this, she turned around, lifting her hands and using her dark powers to raise the rubble back into a wall, repairing it.

Jericho watched her, an intensity in his eyes, taking in every detail. Slade hoped that his staring didn't give them away, but there was no way to warn him against it without drawing attention for certain. Under different circumstances, Raven would sense him right away, recognizing him even without the mask, if only she was actually looking for him. The only reason she didn't know who he was, is because she would never expect Slade, the criminal mastermind, to be here. If, however, she looked over and noticed him, and looked too closely, she might start to think he seemed familiar.

"Let's go," he said in a low voice, carefully leading Jericho out with the crowd. On their way out, they passed each of the other Titans, mostly surrounding the current 'HIVE Five', all sitting on the ground handcuffed. Jericho was watching them, observing them all intensely, but didn't garner any attention from anyone.

* * *

"Who are they?" the question was saved until they'd made it back home, but Slade knew exactly what the blonde was asking.

"They're the Teen Titans, and they're trouble. They're in the same circle as the Justice League, so it's best you stay out of their sight for a while, in case any capes are looking for you. They were fighting off the HIVE Five, students from HIVE Academy, a school meant for metahuman teens to learn how to harness their powers for criminal activity. You're better off away from them, as well. All you need to know you'll learn from me; you don't need a half-rate school to teach you anything."

Jericho took this information in thoughtfully, filing it away in his brain as they made their way down to the basement. "Yes, well… Who are they? If I ever end up facing them again, shouldn't I know who they all are, what they can do?"

Slade let out a breath, stopping and looking over his shoulder, making the boy freeze. The man was sure he didn't look angry (he didn't feel angry with the questions, after all) but he reminded himself that he was an intimidating figure, and Jericho was still nervous at times, always timid when he actually spoke up 'out of turn.' Slade touched his shoulder, leading him towards the computer consoles.

"Fair enough. I can't begrudge you information. The first year or two that I came here, the Titans were… an interest of mine. We clashed on several occasions, as I was looking for a replacement of Grant, and they caught my eye. Obviously, this was before I found you, and now that you're with me my search for an apprentice is over, but if we are to go out to fulfil a contract, it's a possibility that we'll run into them. I can't allow them to get anywhere near you, so you're right; I think it's a good idea for you to know what you might be up against."

He started up the computer system, multiple screens lighting up. He typed in several commands, opening up a series of folders, accompanied by thumbnail pictures, labeled with the names of Titans and local villains alike. He pulled a chair out, gesturing for Jericho to take a seat.

"Go ahead and read up on them, everything I know is in there. I don't expect you to memorize it, but the major details should be easy enough for you to retain, I'm sure. After dinner, I'll give you an oral quiz to see how much you learned."

Jericho gave him a slight frown, a little nonplussed at Slade's insistence for constant learning opportunities, but he couldn't be _that_ annoyed. After all, this is what he'd wanted to learn, and he was actually eager to do so. This was much better than just listening to voices and getting glimpses through a crowd. Plus, he felt proud that his father was so willing to share all of the information he had. It made Jericho feel like an equal for once, a partner and not a slave. He sat down, and got right to work. Slade left him to it, hoping that his curiosity would be satisfied with this, and hoping that nothing more came of it.

Jericho put in headphones, opening up a program that converts text to audio. As he'd explained to Slade, he learned more by listening than by reading. This way he could multitask. He rested his chin in one hand, clicking through pictures and files while he listened.

* * *

One night, not long after that, when Slade opened the bedroom door to check on Jericho, he found the blonde lying awake, staring at the ceiling. He was a bit surprised by this, and felt a little awkward in a way, being caught checking up on his teenage son as if he were only a toddler.

"Jericho, you're awake?"

Jericho nodded once, and looked over. "Sorry. I never sleep very well. I never really have."

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Jericho said. "You haven't this whole time, whenever you check on me."

Now Slade was doubly taken aback. "You've been awake?"

"Every night," Jericho confirmed, voice light and soft. "I always thought you might be mad at me for being awake when I shouldn't be so I've always just stayed under the blankets."

Slade stepped into the room, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. "What wakes you up every single night?"

"I'm a light sleeper," Jericho started. "And I get a lot of bad dreams. And sometimes…" he let out a sigh. "A lot of the time, I keep thinking that this isn't real. That I've gone crazy and started to hallucinate or something. When I fall asleep I worry that I'll wake up again, for real, and I won't be here. It's easier to be awake, as long as I get enough rest."

Slade wanted to protest but couldn't think of many strong arguments. After all, Jericho hadn't shown any signs of fatigue at any point, which led one to believe that he really did get the rest that he needed to function. But, still…

"I know it's hard, but you need to be able to get more sleep," he said. "We can consider it something to work on, alright? William would be willing to make you some tea every night, which could help. If I have to I can get you some medication that will help too."

The boy merely nodded, blank faced. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that he couldn't sleep, but no matter how well 'rested' Jericho was, or seemed to be, Slade knew that it stemmed from unhealthy psychological issues, which he wanted his son to be able to overcome. One step at a time. Slade thought for a moment, trying to come up with something that might help.

"Hold on, I'll be back."

The blonde looked up at him curiously, watching as he left. In a few minutes, he was back, holding something in his hand.

"It might not mean much," Slade said, "but maybe it will help you remember that this is all real."

He handed the object to Jericho, who looked at it in the dim light. It was a bit of shiny, sharp metal, that was shaped into a jagged 'S'. A type of throwing knife, it seemed like.

"What's this?"

"A weapon," Slade shrugged. "I said it might not mean much. But, if you ever think that this isn't real, that might help you know that it is. It's a signature weapon I've used, there's no others like them. It's not something you'd have seen before so you wouldn't be able to remember it falsely or probably even make it up. It's the best thing I have that's just lying around."

The boy stared at it, turning it over in his fingers. "It's nice…. Thank you." He didn't say any more than that. Truthfully, he was too blown away, even over something so simple. He didn't want to be obvious about it, but it felt really… special. No one had ever given him something before, not like this. Sure, he'd been given his own weapons and pieces of gear, but even though this was just another weapon it was still more than that. It was a gift, something to make him feel a little better. A bit crude and not necessarily well thought-out, but genuine all the same.

"Goodnight, Jericho."

"Goodnight." He laid back down as Slade left, tucking the metal weapon under his pillow for safekeeping.

* * *

 **Well, thanks for reading. I'll post the rest when I feel like it. Honestly some reviews would motivate the hell out of me, I'm not even going to pretend I don't want them because I do. Like I've said before, reviews are like cotton candy. Might be empty, sugary air, but they taste good all the same.**

 **Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The first time I uploaded this into my Doc Manager something went wrong and it basically broke into chunks of code so my original authors note went with it. That's okay, just insert a bunch of excuses for nothing being done besides this. Moving, Netflix, blah blah blah. At least technically this is still a once-a-month time frame. This chapter also has a lot of my favorite parts in it. Enjoy.**

* * *

In less than a month, a new job was scheduled, and it was simple enough that Slade felt confident that Jericho could come along. They would be stealing something- not Deathstroke's usual contract, but this was for some particularly expensive information, stored on a computer in the state's most high tech facility. It would be heavily guarded, and it was likely that they'd have to use force. Therefore, Slade was having Jericho brush up on every possible skill he could, to be sure they would be prepared.

Jericho had never been through this type of thing; previously he'd mostly been used as a soldier or a bodyguard. Now, he would be an apprentice, Slade's partner-in-training. His skills were there, but he'd have to get some experience out in the field, before he was really at the level he needed to be. Slade was sure he would handle himself just fine, of course, but it would take some getting used to.

"Your form is fine but you aren't focusing at all," Slade said, frowning slightly at the teen. Jericho was hitting pretty close to the center on all the targets, but normally he was dead-on, near perfect.

"Sorry, sir," the boy answered simply, voice a bit quiet. "I'll do better." He raised his gun, shooting the next target with his usual level of precision. He picked up a magazine to reload, but Slade stopped him.

"That's enough for today. I would like to talk to you about the upcoming contract."

The blonde gave a curt nod, following the man into the other room, where they'd first taken a break to talk so many weeks ago. Files were laid out on the coffee table, but Slade gathered them up and set them aside. Slade sighed softly; he could see that Jericho was starting to shut down again, moving almost mechanically with an empty expression. Slade couldn't let him be like that, like how he was before, and he had to get to the bottom of it. He sat down across from the blonde, just as before.

"Jericho, what's making you lose focus? Are you worried about this mission?"

"Not at all, sir," Jericho answered, but his face was still blank. Slade pressed further.

"Something is going on in your head," the man said, "and I want to know what it is."

Green eyes shifted down, out of sight, and it didn't seem as though Jericho would answer without a little more prodding, so Slade continued.

"I remember what you said, when I first asked you if you enjoyed killing. You had never thought about it before, you'd only done what you had to in order to survive. Is that right?" A tiny nod. "So, now that some time has passed, and you've had the opportunity to live a more free life, I assume you've had the time to reevaluate your thoughts and feelings, so I am going to ask you again. Do you enjoy killing?"

Jericho still didn't look up, and he was as still as a statue for a moment, looking particularly pale. "Y-... Yes, I do…"

The words barely made it out of the boy's mouth, as if he'd had to choke them out. His body was tense, looking unnaturally stiff. None of this was lost on Slade, and he knew that it was a lie, which puzzled him a bit. Before, when they had just met, the boy had freely admitted that he was unsure about how he felt. Why would he lie now?

"Tell me the truth, Jericho," Slade said firmly. "I don't like being lied to."

Startled green eyes flashed up at Slade, because clearly the teen didn't think his lie had been that obvious. He immediately showed signs of distress, ducking his head back down, his breathing becoming a bit shallower. His mouth moved, trying to form words, but it didn't seem they would come to him. His father patiently waited, willing to stay here all night if he had to.

"I…" Jericho's voice broke. He shook his head fiercely. "I'm sorry! Please don't send me back!"

Now it was Slade's turn to be surprised, which didn't happen often. "Who said I was sending you back?"

The boy looked up once more, eyes filled with tears. "I- I don't want to kill people anymore!"

"That doesn't entirely answer my question," Slade said. "Why would I ever send you back?"

"B'cause-" the boy hiccupped, trying to stay in control of himself. "You said you wanted an apprentice, someone to replace Grant, and follow in your footsteps. You kill people for a living, and if I can't do it too, then you won't need me anymore."

Slade took this in, and it made sense. No wonder the boy had been acting so odd. "So, you were prepared to keep doing it? To shut down and follow orders like you did before?" Jericho nodded, quickly, still sniffling. "You forgot one thing. What's the difference between me and all your previous masters?"

Jericho's eyebrows furrowed. What a question! There were loads of differences, almost everything about him was different. Deathstroke was better at what he did than anyone else Jericho knew. He was faster, and stronger, and smarter. Those were all obvious answers, but Slade rarely wanted the obvious answers. Another difference- when he asked Jericho a question he didn't expect the boy to bark back a quick, trained answer. He only asked questions he wanted real, thought-out answers to. He treated Jericho different as well, he was much kinder, but in some ways still stricter. He actually cared like no one had before, because…

"You're my father," Jericho said after a moment of thought, some realizations coming to him. Did this mean-?

"You're my son," Slade confirmed. "You were gone for years, and I only happened to find you by chance, but that doesn't mean I will ever let you out of my sight again. Just because you don't want to be an assassin, doesn't mean you can't still be a mercenary in other ways. You're very skilled, and it would be a shame to let that go to waste. Most importantly, though, I love you, and no matter what I'll never, ever lose you again, do you understand?"

Joseph swallowed a lump, only able to nod in response. He wouldn't be cast aside because he didn't want to fulfill his duties. The man had high expectations, but he was already more forgiving than anyone else when it came to Jericho missing some of those. There had been missions in the past that Jericho had failed, even ones that he couldn't have possibly completed, but no matter what the excuse was, there was always a punishment. He managed to speak softly.

"You… aren't mad? You aren't going to punish me for it?"

"For this?" Slade shook his head. "No. I should have guessed, knowing you. It was never in your heart as a child and I can't imagine why that would change now, even after all you've been through. Even if you change your mind about everything, and want to live a normal life, I won't punish you, and I won't let you go. No matter what happens, you will stay with me for as long as you wish. I promise."

Jericho calmed down after a few more breaths, taking in this information. When he'd stopped crying, he spoke up. "I want to stay with you, and I think I'd like to go with you on missions, just without killing anyone."

Slade nodded again. "Good, I'd hoped you'd feel that way. You can continue to work with me and learn new skills, but you can only come out on missions with me under one circumstance. I won't lose you again, so I want you to be armed, in case something goes wrong. If you're in danger, I fully expect you to protect yourself, even if it means killing someone. Is that a deal?"

Jericho nodded. "Yes, I can do that." It wouldn't be a problem, after all. He still had the resolve to kill, if his life was in danger. If nothing else, he had a strong will to survive after all these years.

* * *

It was so easy to work with Deathstroke, and follow his lead. Much easier than Jericho could have expected. True, they'd practiced maneuvers and gone over every detail a thousand times, but so many things about this outing were a first for the boy. He wasn't out to kill, he wasn't a bodyguard or a pawn. They were here to steal, and for the first time he could remember, Jericho truly felt like an equal- a partner. Thinking about it made his heart soar a little.

Of course Slade was still in charge, Jericho was still the student, but that was more than he'd been to anyone in a long time. Although Slade had made it clearer to him with each passing day, it was finally sinking in with this mission. Most masters acted differently under pressure, out in the middle of the action, and Deathstroke was no exception. Throughout the years it'd always been Jericho's opportunity to see the true nature of those who owned him on the first mission, and see how they acted with him.

Deathstroke was cool and collected. He seemed calm, though to someone who'd been observing him so closely like Jericho had, it was clear that he was tense. Not out of fear, but out of focus and drive. His reflexes were sharper, his movements even more deliberate. He was not a man to be trifled with. His attitude, however, stayed the same. He moved with Jericho, taking the lead but never leaving the boy out of the action.

The way their plan was thought out, Slade really did need him there. Jericho was sure that the man could have handled it himself and should anything bad happen, he'd still manage, but he didn't do all the work nor did he leave all the work to the boy. They were balanced, working together in sync like two halves of a pair of scissors.

"So far, we've evaded all security," Deathstroke said in a voice so low that only his metahuman son could hear him. He was back in his old uniform, with a cloth mask, armed to the teeth, though mostly for show since they wouldn't need that much firepower.

Jericho was dressed in something simple; black, silver, and blue armored kevlar with considerably less weaponry. He wore his own mask, but his eyes were uncovered should he need to use his power. He still adamantly refused to consider it, but Slade insisted that he leave himself the option, just in case. He did take note of the reluctance, and could only guess why. It must have been trained out of him to ever even consider using such a power, or it just frightened him. Either way, he wouldn't press it but he would try and work on helping Jericho overcome that fear, too.

They were up against a wall, a few corridors away from their goal. "We may get in and out without needing to use force after all," Slade said.

When all was clear they hurried through the shadows into an office. Jericho stood guard while Slade hacked into the computer to copy all the files onto a pocket-sized drive. The man was back out again in less than two minutes, and before Jericho knew it they were back out on the roof, where they wouldn't be seen.

"That was it?" he asked, picking up the duffle bag and digging out street clothes. "No one even saw us, we didn't have to fight anyone or run."

"That's the idea," Slade said, taking out some of his own clothes to put on over the uniform. "This was simple, and it went very well. However, until we get this back to our client we aren't in the clear yet. We have to make it back home. You remember the rest of the plan, don't you?"

"Yes sir," Jericho nodded, removing his mask and putting it into the bag. "We split up and meet back at base."

"Good boy. Draw no attention to yourself," the man reminded him, picking up the bag. The sweats combined with the bag to make it seem like he was on his way to or from a workout. It would be weird if there wasn't a 24-hour gym close by. Jericho had baggy jeans and a t-shirt, looking like any other teenager you might see on the street. "Be careful, and don't act suspicious."

"Obviously," the blonde said dryly. Slade snorted, taking it lightly. "See you back home."

They each made it off the roof without being seen, leaving separately and in opposite directions to make their way back home. Walking together at this time of night might call a little more attention to themselves, and according to Slade, travelling by rooftop wasn't a good idea with a certain 'little bird' around.

Personally, Jericho had never stopped thinking about the Titans. It was one thing for adults to wear a cape and put their lives at risk without even getting recognition for it all the time (or a paycheck for that matter) but Jericho couldn't understand why teenagers would do it. The way he saw it, most adults were assholes, and the JLA in particular was made up of jerks. Sure they saved a ton a people, but they sure hadn't done him or Ace or any of the other Cadmus kids any favors. They only looked out for certain people, it seemed. The 'good citizens', not some lab rats with no names that no one will miss.

So, then, where did that leave the Titans? Jericho didn't believe they were jerks, at least not yet. They seemed like him. They had superpowers, and training, but they were still kids. He still wondered, a lot, about why they did it. The big question. He thought over it as he walked, since he didn't often get time to quietly think. He had a few ideas on why they might be doing it, none of them very flattering. Maybe they were, in a certain way, weapons, just like he had been. Perhaps not as strictly forced, but pressured to take on their roles and act on the League's commands to wipe out villains. Villains like Jericho and Slade.

Slade had said himself, he didn't want the Titans to know about Jericho yet, worried that they would act under the desires of their superiors and try to capture him and put him back into another high security facility. It wasn't impossible, but somehow Jericho didn't believe it was quite like that. At least, he didn't want to believe it. Maybe he just hoped it wasn't true, maybe he thought he saw more of himself than the JLA in the Titans. He'd practically memorised the files, trying to get to know them from afar. He wanted to think that they were rebels, in a sense, playing by their own rules and not answering to their mentors. It seemed kind of plausible, based on the files.

And yet, he still didn't have a good answer. Why did they do it? Why did…. He nearly stopped in his tracks. Why did he do what he did? He wasn't even that sure anymore… He shook his head. He was going through a lot of change, he'd already spent a lot of time reevaluating his life and what he wanted. For now he wanted to be with his father, and he was happy to participate in missions. It was all he'd ever known, he couldn't give up a life like that all of a sudden. It was complicated, but his life was better now. Maybe it was the same for them in a way? No, there had to be more to it than that…

Beyond the sounds of the city at night, Jericho thought he heard something. It didn't quite fit among sounds of traffic and bars and nightlife. He listened, trying to hear it again. It sounded like crying, maybe? The quiet, sniffly kind, like from a small child. He frowned, trying hard to pinpoint where it was coming from. He walked down the street a half a block, listening hard. He had heightened senses, but they weren't exactly superhuman. He peered into an alleyway he thought it might be coming from, seeing no one. However, when he heard it again it was definitely coming from here. He stepped in, peering through the dark into corners. Behind a dumpster, there was movement and a sniffle. He glanced around, and then carefully crouched down.

"Hey? Are you okay?"

A formless bundle, which turned out to be a blanket of some kind, suddenly developed a face. And a voice. "Go away!"

"What are you doing out here this late all by yourself?" he asked. He was kind of baffled by the concept of a small child being out here like this. Jump was supposed to be a more 'friendly' city, lower crime rates and less homeless people than most people. Just more monsters made out of sewage and cement.

"Go away!" the child said again, poking their head up out of the blanket, revealing chin-length dark hair. Jericho felt a pang in his heart, though was too distracted to realize why, yet. It was a girl, by the looks of things, so at least he had a _slightly_ better idea of who he was dealing with. She sniffed again, and it was clear that she wasn't crying, she had a runny nose. "Leave me alone! I'm hiding!" she hissed.

He frowned again. "Hiding? From who?"

"Everyone," she said, growing muffled as she ducked her head back under the blanket. Jericho stood there, staring at the bundle for a moment. Despite what she'd said, the child seemed more annoyed than actually scared. She was hiding to stay out of sight, not out of pure fear. Jericho could relate to that. He knew he should just leave it be and walk away, it was none of his business after all. It wasn't a part of his duties, and besides, what was he even going to do? Walk her down to the police station? Hell no, that would be suicide. He probably couldn't do anything at all, but something was really bugging him about it.

"El- _sie_!" A voice called out, from not too far off. "Else!"

Jericho tensed, the bundle curled up tighter, and soon a man was standing at the end of the alley. He was kind of tall, but wiry. He looked dirty and his clothes were kind of ratty, but it seemed like they were meant to look 'fancy'. He had gold chains and rings and a watch, and even a gold tooth. Jericho had seen his type before, and his frown deepened. The man's expression reflected his own.

"Blondie, you seen a kid runnin' 'round here? Scrawny lil' brat, dark hair?"

"What for?" Jericho asked coldly.

"None of your business," the man sneered. "But you've seen her, haven't you?"

The blonde remained still, not even glancing away, yet the man seemed to know that the girl was there. He pushed his way forward, glaring sharply.

"Move! Get out of here, blondie, it ain't none of your business," he growled, shoving past Jericho and snatching up the blanket, leaving the girl exposed. She let out a small shriek of involuntary surprise.

"Leave her alone," Jericho suggested flatly. He knew what kind of guy this was, and that kind of guy didn't have any good plans for any girl, or woman for that matter. Or whoever he 'employed.'

"Piss off!" the man said, reaching down to snatch the girl. "She belongs to me. Her mama works for me and this lil bitch ain't goin' nowhere!"

It struck a chord in him, sending a cold wave through his body. One swift punch was all it took, the pimp went down like a bag of flour, without a sound. His nose was bleeding, and it made his breathing come with a gurgle as he lay slumped on the ground. He was lucky to be breathing at all.

"People aren't property…"

The girl shrieked again, darting off. Jericho wasn't even thinking about any of it. He walked to the end of the alley, wondering if he should try and chase that girl down before anyone else caught her. His thought was cut short when a figure swooped down in front of her, almost a whole block away. Yellow, red, green…. Jericho swallowed, feeling more tense than he had facing the pimp.

The girl halted, but didn't run away from Robin. Of course not. He was a damn icon, a genuine hero, especially in this city. Possibly one of the most recognizable teens in the country, and no one even knew what he actually looked like, behind the mask. The girl might have been the least trusting kid of her age in the whole city, but even she seemed to reluctantly trust the Boy Wonder.

 _Well that solves that problem…._ Jericho pulled up his hood, walking away while Robin was distracted. He got kind of far before the other teen shouted after him.

"Hey, wait! Get back here!" Jericho didn't hear footsteps chasing him, so he didn't speed up his pace. Yet. "I saw what happened, you're not in trouble! You have to stay here- you have to tell the cops what happened!"

To his own surprise, even though he didn't stop walking away, a small part of Jericho actually wanted to go back. He wanted to meet Robin, interact with him even through the guise of actually giving a shit about testifying against a pimp. He would have a chance to get to know Robin a little bit in person, not just as a file on the computer. And….there was something else that he couldn't quite place his finger on.

Robin seemed more concerned about staying with the girl and the unconscious scumbag than chasing Joey down, so the blonde made it home without any issue. His thoughts were churning around in his head, feeling like cement. It was frustrating, being on the brink of so many ideas but too tired and frayed to put them all together. He reported nothing to Slade, not wanting the man to get suspicious or worried. It was strange to hold something back like that. A little thrilling. Jericho went to bed, feeling a bit warm from a job well done, and the acknowledgement of it from Slade himself. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, thinking one thing.

 _I think I can almost understand why, now…._

* * *

Jericho needed to say something, that was pretty obvious. Truthfully, Slade had been waiting all morning for him to spit it out. Of course he didn't say anything out loud, not wanting to pressure the boy. When he did finally speak up, the man was surprised.

"D-ad?"

The word fell awkwardly out of his mouth, breaking into two syllables as if halfway through his brain tried to stop his mouth, but it was too late. Actually that was pretty much what happened. It was becoming easier to think of Slade as a father, but he'd never really said it outloud before. He flushed slightly, looking down and hesitating, feeling slightly mortified that he'd said it outloud.

Jericho and Slade were working on plans for the next contract. It was scheduled very much ahead of time, but to Deathstroke that only meant more time to plan out every detail. It was to take place overseas, somewhere in Europe. Jericho didn't yet know what it was, but he had other things on his mind. Slade looked up from his laptop at him.

"What is it?"

Jericho was still trying to gather his thoughts into words. Communicating and expressing himself so freely was still difficult. For most of his life, his thoughts had been his own- the _only_ things that were his own. However, he didn't speak unless spoken to. No one asked his opinion, and he didn't ask questions or share ideas. And now, of course, things were different with Slade in this area as well. He was still learning how to speak up, and to not feel too afraid to ask questions when he needed to. Sharing ideas was as mortifying as ever, but Slade only responded encouragingly, making it easier bit by bit.

Yet, the simple act of turning abstract thoughts into structured sentences was difficult at times. Jericho might know exactly what he wanted to say and express, but wanted to do so in a way that he knew would be understood. Thus, everything he ever said freely to the man was sure to be thought out very carefully.

"When you were looking for me- for someone to-" he gestured, as he often did, still not looking up. He let out a breath and started over. "When I was with Cadmus…. There were other kids there."

Slade listened as patiently as ever. Jericho needed patience, and despite his usual temperament, Slade found it so incredibly easy to give it to him. Most likely because it was his own son, whom he was still happy to see alive again. Perhaps also because it was still so clear that he was recovering from his past life that even Deathstroke the Terminator had enough heart to go easy on him. When it was clear the boy was done speaking, Slade began the usual task of trying to decipher precisely what it was that Jericho was asking.

"Yes, there were others…. I picked you because you were the best for what I had in mind."

Slade's first guess was that Jericho was once again feeling insecure, and therefore proceeded to answer in such a way. It didn't turn out to be as simple.

"No, I know that…" Jericho mumbled. "But you did a lot of research, right?"

Slade gave a single nod. "Yes, I did. As much as I could; not all the information was available, but I got everything I needed to complete the task of tracking you down and taking you with me. I always do my research, like we are now."

The second attempt wasn't so much a guess as it was a way of pushing the conversation forward. Jericho always got to the point sooner or later. Slade just always hoped he would get better at getting to it sooner over time. Luckily, the third time's the charm.

"Do you know what happened to the other kids?" Jericho asked after a moment of silence.

There was the real question. Now Slade could give a real answer. "No, I don't. All the information was deeply buried. To track down even you took me several weeks, and that was before I could actually go out and start looking, which also took several weeks. To find out what happened to any individual at Cadmus, child or scientist, or businessman, would take just as long. The entire place was both buried and erased from nearly all records. A lot of people don't want anyone to know the program ever existed, let alone anyone involved."

Jericho was silent, which didn't worry Slade. Jericho was a boy who never talked much, and the man just assumed he didn't have anything else to say on the subject. His curiosity could very well have been sated. He turned back to his work, and it was quiet for a while. He must have been thinking hard about what he wanted to say next, because the next point he made he got across on one try.

"I want to find them."

"No beating around the bush this time," Slade commented to himself as he once again stopped what he was doing to face the boy on the other side of the table. He let out a breath. "Jericho, I just told you that It took a month to dig up anything useful on you, just one person. It would take at least as long, if not longer, to find anyone else. We're leaving the country sooner than that, on an important contract that will take up too much of our time. It simply can't be done."

There was a look in Jericho's eyes, something like disappointment but not quite. It was purely...childlike. A look of heartbreak that Slade had never seen in any child over the age of five. Naturally, it took him by surprise to see it on a teenaged assassin, even one that was formerly Joey Wilson, the most kind-hearted child there had ever been. It made Slade feel something he rarely felt- guilt. Yes, he was suddenly full of the same feeling new parents get when they tell their toddler no for the first time, and have to face the puppy-dog eyes and a quivering lip. Not that Jericho's lip was quivering, just yet…

"Jo- Jericho," the man continued, "I can see that it's very important to you, but you have to understand that there's no room in our schedule for such a large task right now." The blonde's expression changed, from heartbreak to something with a hint of defiance. Better nip it in the bud. "I'll tell you what. Make your case. Give it some thought, and in a day or two, I want you to give me a list of reasons to take on such a task, in what ways it would be worth the time, and why you want to do it at all. Tell me everything you can think of, and convince me to agree to it."

Jericho's expression brightened a bit, and he already seemed full of reasons to go, only just barely holding back due to the emotional strain he was under from expressing himself so boldly in the first place. Jericho only seemed to say so many things in a day, plus this was obviously important to him, and he wouldn't dare blow his chance. He gave a firm and determined nod.

"Alright. I can't promise I'll agree, but I'll give you a chance to argue on your own behalf. In return I will give you a list of my own reasons as counter-argument. Agreed?" Another nod. "Good boy. Finish listening to those French tapes and working on that device, and then we'll see about getting something to eat for dinner."

* * *

It was more than a few days. It was almost a week. Jericho put every free thought (and some wasted ones, when he was bored of his research and assignments) into coming up with his argument. It was hard. He knew he wanted it with all of his heart, even if it was still hard to pin down the full reason. He realised why he'd reacted in a way to protect that girl, Elsie. She reminded him of Ace.

He'd failed to protect Ace, and now he didn't know where she was. He didn't know where any of the others were. He had never even known or met all of them, but he knew they existed. And, if he'd been locked away in such awful conditions since the JLA took over, there was a high possibility that at least some of the others had been locked up too, if not all of them. The fact that it was such a well-guarded secret was suspicious as well. Surely if the Justice League rescued a bunch of kids, they wouldn't mind people knowing about it.

The others were most likely in danger, locked away somewhere, maybe even back in the hands of some nasty people. Jericho wanted to save them. He wanted to find them, and make sure they were safe. If he was the only one who'd been rescued after all this time, he was the only one who could, and he needed Slade to help him do it. Both the man's resources and skill set would make it possible. Jericho just had to sell him on the idea.

He knew Deathstroke the Terminator wasn't a hero-type who rescued kids for fun. The fact that he rescued Jericho had been for his own gain, and it was just a happy coincidence that it had reunited them as father and son. Maybe that proved there was a softer side to him? A side that could be convinced to rescue other kids for the right price?

What was that price? Obviously Jericho couldn't pay him to do it. He had nothing of his own, besides basic things. Everything he did have, his father provided for him anyway. Jericho had to think of other things Slade could gain from this, and that's what he spent most of his time thinking about. It wasn't easy, and he couldn't think of many things at all. Mostly he felt that he _had_ to do it. He needed to find and help them, to protect them He was the only one that really could.

These thoughts circled around in his head, and he knew he had to put them into words somehow. Make Slade understand how important this was to him. He felt semi-confident that Slade would listen…. He'd done well listening to Jericho so far and had never shot down any of the few ideas the blonde had ever shared, as long as they were thought through.

He just had to convince Slade to play the hero a little bit. He _had_ to…

* * *

"Alright, I'm listening," Slade said. "Convince me that I should put months of effort into this when we're about to take on a big job overseas."

 _No pressure, then_ … Jericho looked down at his hands folded in front of him on the table. Slade was sitting patiently across from him, attentive. Jericho swallowed, letting out a breath, and reaffirming with himself how badly he wanted this, hoping that somehow his desires would leak into his words and reach Slade.

"I understand that we can't abandon the current contract, and I don't want to do that," he started. "And, I know that we're probably travelling too far be of much help to any of them, but I don't want to abandon _them_ either. I have to try."

Slade remained silent, skeptical. He felt an urge to criticize the use of phrases like 'have to', and 'abandon them.' It certainly wasn't something Slade thought they had to do, nor did they owe anyone anything. Still, he kept it to himself. Jericho was expressing some thoughts he'd been formulating for a long time now, and Slade didn't want to burst his bubble, so to speak. He gave a nod, signaling for Jericho to continue, though the blonde was clearly nervous.

"Well… Maybe it doesn't seem like much but I feel like you could gain from helping them," Jericho pointed out. "I mean, everyone there was like me, you know?"

"Elaborate on that," Slade pressed.

"I'm skilled… That's why you went looking for me, right?"

"I went looking for _you,_ a trained assassin. Not a child turned science project," Slade reminded him. "What do you think any others might have to offer that you don't? As far as I'm concerned, I already found the best one, I don't need to go back for the others."

Jericho faltered for a few moments, blinking rapidly at the compliment, no matter how indirect. Slade didn't say nice things all the time, sure, but he had said more kind things to Jericho than anyone he could remember before. It still made his heart swell a little, and he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts.

"I know you aren't looking for anyone else, but maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if you did?" he continued once more. "I'm not saying you should take them all in, or any of them at all, but… We take on rescue missions sometimes, don't we?"

"If you recall, rescuing isn't my forte… and besides that, I only take on what I will either get paid for, or what might benefit me," the man countered. "Obviously, they were all hidden away, and a lot of people never want them found again, so no one is paying us to do this. And, since I'm not looking for another apprentice, I can't see anything to gain from it. Do you?"

He was pressing hard, and the blonde was struggling to keep thinking of things to say. No matter how many times he'd rehearsed it in his head, he knew this would be a stumbling block he might not be able to hurdle. All along he'd hoped that somehow he could say exactly the right words to convince the man to go along with it, despite the lack of anything to gain from it.

"I… There's nothing…" he admitted very quietly, not looking up. "Nothing I can think of for you to gain."

"Then what about you? Might you gain something from it? Surely you must, since you want it so much."

Jericho blinked again. He hadn't really thought of that. He couldn't think of anything obvious he might gain, but somehow he still felt like there would be more in his life if he did this. Maybe not more money or power, but _something…_ He tried to pinpoint what it was, but all he could picture was Ace, falling to the floor back at Cadmus, and Elsie, tucked against the dumpster. He thought for a few minutes, putting together the right words.

"I couldn't protect Ace…" he started, his voice barely a whisper. "I wanted to save her. I got the idea that I could pick her up and run away… maybe we would find some of the others on our way out and we could all get away…. I never got the chance…" He swallowed hard, his voice becoming thicker. "For as long as I could remember I just wanted to run away but I never could, never even _tried_ because…. Because when I did I never got away and it only made things worse. I wanted for someone to come find me and help me but the only people who ever took me away from one place only brought me to a worse place than before."

He stopped, sniffling slightly. Tears rolled down his face, but Slade didn't say anything, he just listened carefully, letting Jericho get it out.

"I know where the Justice League put me, and if they did that to even _one more kid,_ I need to help them. No one else knows about it but us. No one else would even think to look for any of them. You never looked for me because you thought I died. No one is looking for them- I _have to._ _I need to find them…_ I couldn't help anyone before but now I can, and I want to.

"Maybe it won't get me anything, maybe it's a lot of trouble, but for me it will be worth it. I have to know what happened to them. I have to know that they're all safe, and if they're not, I have to save them. Someone has to, and if the Justice League would rather sweep us all under the rug, then no one else in the world is going to but me. _I have to._ "

He looked up, still teary-eyed. There was an immense vulnerability in those eyes, something that Jericho surely hadn't shown to anyone in a long time. His true desires were clear, and Slade took a few moments of silence to consider it. Assassin or not, Jericho was still Joseph, on a deeper level. He had some things Slade didn't. Endless compassion and empathy; a drive to protect others even with nothing to gain. A more pure heart than should ever be possible after what he'd gone through.

Slade hadn't expected this. He knew Jericho wanted to rescue the others, but he had imagined that it was for different reasons. He'd thought that maybe Jericho wanted to build a team, after seeing how it worked for the Titans. Or maybe he'd have been twisted enough to imagine selling their rescues to the highest bidder, inflicting the misdeeds against him in the past on new victims. No, it wasn't anywhere near either of those…. Slade was surprised though the more he thought about it, the less he thought he should be. The real Joseph was still in there, the loving child he used to be. He showed signs of it all along the way.

Slade let out a sigh. It seemed like there was a chance this might not all work out like he'd intended it to. Would Jericho follow along with this path for much longer? Slade didn't know, but he wasn't ready to give up. He was never one to quit when it came to achieving his goals. "Jericho…. I understand how much you want this," he started, trying to be gentle. The blonde averted his gaze, wiping away tears. "That said, you're right about one thing. There's no room in our current schedule to fully take this on."

The boy stiffened slightly, but Slade went on before he could answer or protest.

"Even if we had all the information we needed right this moment, we don't have the time to track anyone down and rescue them. They could be worse off than you were, and need a lot more attention and care to get back on their feet. We're leaving for Europe in several weeks, and there's a lot to do before we go. Let alone after we get there."

"I want to do it myself!" Jericho blurted out quickly, looking up sharply. Slade was taken a bit by surprise once more.

"What was that?"

"Since it takes so long anyway," the boy said with a deep breath, trying to regain composure. "I can do all the research parts on my own in my free time and then maybe after that, you can help me do the actual rescuing part?" He was tentative, but desperate.

"If you choose to take this on as a side project, I can share with you all my resources, but-" Slade held up a hand, "You still need to be 100% on our main contract. You keep up with your homework, you keep your head in the game, and you make our paying job top priority. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Jericho said, brightening up, filled with apparent determination again. "I can handle it." He would. He had to.

* * *

The research was slow going, to put it lightly. Jericho only had a few hours each day to work on it, and it was at the end of the day when he had free time. By then, he was usually worn out from the day's work, and it was nearly impossible to focus properly. He tried, putting all his effort into it, but more often than not fell asleep at the desk and dreamed away any information he'd learned, having to start over the next day. It was frustrating, and a lot of times he wanted to give up, but he just couldn't. He refused to give up on this project, it wasn't an option. However, slacking off on the work towards their contract wasn't an option either, so he pressed onward, frustration building upon his sleepless nights. It was wearing him down, slowly.

Wintergreen was a comfort in times like this. Jericho didn't see all that much of him; he was usually keeping busy with running the house, in a sense, while Slade and Jericho worked. Jericho didn't know why exactly he did it. He knew the two men were very close friends, having served in the army together before he was born. He knew William was his godfather, and that he was named after Will (middle names counted). He acted the part as well, always there to share a kind word or a little pat on the back. He was there to look out for Jericho in all the ways Slade wasn't.

"Are you sure you're keeping up with everything alright?" Will asked one night, when it was getting late but Jericho hadn't thrown in the towel yet. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, which instantly seemed to relax him. It made William happy to be able to be such a comfort to Jericho. At first he'd been skittish about his personal space, but it was obvious that Jericho was starved for both attention and affection after so long, and even a simple touch on the arm was clearly appreciated.

"This is so hard," Jericho admitted, pausing the audio and taking off his headphones. "I can't go on like this, trying to keep up with both things. I'm not making any progress this way, and I don't know what to do…"

William sighed, feeling sympathetic. He knew how badly Jericho wanted to save the other kids, and he felt that it was a good thing for the boy to do. He could see even now that Jericho was unlikely to follow in Slade's footsteps much longer. Jericho just hadn't figured that out yet, but William believed that he would. It was too early for the blonde to consider any kind of life away from his father. It was good for him here, compared to where he'd been before. It would be hard for him to go anywhere else, but eventually he'd have to choose between following the path in front of him or starting a new one. Will sat down next to Jericho, putting a hand on his back.

"I think you're doing a very good thing," Wintergreen started, "but remember that you can't help anyone else unless you help yourself first."

"But I've already been helped," Jericho said, sounding frustrated. "Slade rescued me, I'm safe now."

"I mean, you aren't making progress because you're taking on too much at once," the man explained. "You're getting to be in poorer and poorer health. You won't be able to accomplish any task at all soon enough."

"I know that," Jericho sighed, putting his head down on the desk. "But what do I _do_?"

"You already know the answer." Will rubbed his back a bit. "You can't do both things."

It was quiet for a little while, and eventually Jericho lifted his head back up, sniffling. A few droplets were left behind on the surface of the desk. "Wintergreen I can't give up on them, I just _can't…_ And I can't quit being Slade's partner, either. I don't want to stop having this new life. Why can't I have both?"

"Because right now there's no room for both," William said. "But don't think of it as giving up. Think of it as taking a break. You may have more free time in Europe. I know it's a long road and I know it's not fair but… no one can fault you for setting things aside to ensure your own well being."

"I know you're right...it's logical. I just can't stop feeling so bad about it…"

"That's emotion taking over logic," the man said with a small smile. "Something your father struggles with, but thankfully I think you take more after your mother."

"You think so?" Jericho looked at him. "I don't remember her...what was she like?"

"Oh, stubborn, fierce, strong…. Enough like Slade to be 'on his level' but different enough that they got along," William recalled. "Like I said, she was often a more emotional thinker."

Jericho took in the words, trying to remember, or at least imagine such a person. It was a little hard to think of Slade as ever having had a family, even for Jericho himself, but this woman sounded exactly like how Jericho would imagine the man's wife. "What would she say about this, right now?"

"About your situation? Well, she'd tell you to listen carefully to your heart. Even if what it said was a little illogical. And I'd agree with her." Will stood up. "Come along, it's late and you should get to bed."

Jericho sighed and stood up, following Wintergreen towards the bedrooms. Soon enough he was in bed, but not yet asleep. He lay awake, contemplating a lot of things. He decided to stop pushing himself and take a break from his research. He still felt bad, but Will was right about helping himself first. Still, there was one thing he couldn't get past.

 _Listen to my heart…?_ It didn't sound like a good idea, not for him. Jericho knew he wasn't a good person, whether it was his fault or not. He might not be a monster, but his views had been warped enough that he didn't think his heart would magically tell him the right thing to do anymore. In a logical sense he knew the difference between right and wrong, but he also knew that what fell into each category could be drastically different for different people.

Society, culture, upbringing, circumstance, even peers… too many variables that could alter anyone's views to really know much of a difference. He knew that killing people was wrong, but he wasn't too broken up about it, remembering that he'd been a child trying to survive. Did that make it right? Well he didn't think he was in the wrong, but then maybe there was something in between for times like that.

He closed his eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe he didn't know the difference well enough to listen to his heart. He did know one thing, though. He wanted to do better, now that he had the choice to. That had to count for something.

* * *

When Jericho abandoned his side project, Slade assumed he'd gotten bored and changed his mind. It worked out fine for him, so he didn't think much about it. Jericho had been starting to slack up until he stopped doing extra research, and Slade didn't want to have to tell him he needed to stop. It seemed like Will had had a talk with him, thankfully.

The time they were to leave was fast approaching, and since they were ahead of schedule preparing, Slade started setting up small 'missions' for them to go on to practice working together more. Something they did often was more or less a race, though it didn't start that way. Splitting up and meeting at a specified point in time was something they had to be able to do anywhere.

Soon enough, Jericho had turned it into a game to see who could get there first. Slade never openly admitted to actually trying to race, but he was a competitive type, and showed up first half the time, his eye glinting behind the mask.

One night, Jericho was running over rooftops, fully uniformed, when something caught his eye. It was hard to see against the night sky, but there was smoke rising in the distance. It was out of his way, but even Jericho knew that where there was smoke there was fire, and his curiosity got the best of him.

Soon, he was standing on a neighboring rooftop, witnessing the disaster. It was a two-story apartment building, old and made with a lot of wood. He was surprised to see that no one was there, but as people poured out of the front doors, he realized that the fire may have just started. He could hear the faint alarm going off inside, but it looked like it would probably give out soon as the fire consumed the building. He watched, a weird feeling growing in his chest.

Should he….help them? Well, he shouldn't, not while he was in this uniform. No one was supposed to know he existed. Before he could start to feel conflicted about it, however, a brightly clad figure came sprinting down the street. It was Robin. Jericho crouched down out of sight, getting comfortable so that he could watch what happened.

It was impossible to hear what anyone was saying from here, but he could watch them all well enough. Robin approached the evacuated tenants, presumably asking if everyone was out, and if anyone needed immediate medical attention. It seemed like they were all out, and a few had even grabbed their small pets on the way out.

Everyone was relatively calm, but one man seemed a bit shifty to Jericho. Robin noticed it, too, turning his full attention to the man, seeming to be pressing for answers. Then, a little old lady said something, that made the man grimace and Robin seem to pale. The Boy Wonder rushed into the building, right as it was starting to crumble at the top. Jericho couldn't help but lean forward with anticipation, wishing he had x-ray vision.

Within seconds of Robin entering the building, others arrived on the scene. Fireman, with an ambulance, followed by a cop car, and lastly the rest of the Titans arrived on the scene. Jericho watched attentively as the old lady frantically explained something to everyone as they arrived, with some broad gestures and a lot of pointing at the shifty man. The man accused seemed ready to bolt, but some of the larger firemen stood right behind him. Jericho watched him closely himself, with a frown. He'd done something to cause this, that was obvious, and the blonde had a feeling there was even more to it than that.

The Titans seemed ready to run in after their leader, but he emerged again, holding a bundle wrapped in his cape, a half-mask covering his and the child's mouths. He handed the child to the paramedics, while the police arrested the man. The firemen, of course, had been working on putting out the fire since the moment they arrived, and they were now getting it under control. The building had burned pretty quickly, though, and it might have to be completely rebuilt. The ambulance and one cop car both drove away, and it seemed like the whole event was pretty much over.

Jericho had to hurry back; he knew he would be late and didn't want to get in trouble. He stood up again, looking down at the scene, a little lost in thought. Raven turned, looking up and seeming to see him. Robin followed her gaze and it looked like they both saw him at the same time before he ducked away. He wasn't worried. His uniform was dark, and he was a shadow. They'd likely believe they were only seeing things.

"You're late," Deathstroke said when Jericho finally made it to their meeting point. He actually sounded a bit concerned. "And you smell like smoke."

"There was a fire," Jericho explained. "I kind of just wanted to stick around and watch."

The man looked at him curiously, but didn't say anything as he led the way home.

In the morning, the fire was on the news, and Jericho watched, wanting to know all the details. As it turned out, the man _had_ started the fire, and the (unnamed) child happened to be his. Apparently, he'd just taken a life insurance policy out on them, and wanted to cash it in. Jericho felt a twist in his stomach, remembering a few different masters who would have done the same to him if they could.

"I knew he had something to do with it," Jericho said to himself.

"Is that the fire from last night?" Slade asked, coming into the room.

"Yeah," the blonde answered. "The guy never could have pulled it off, though."

"You're right," Slade said, "but tell me why he couldn't."

Jericho snorted. "How could he? He failed on multiple levels. First off, arson is surprisingly hard to pull off without getting caught. They would have figured out he set the fire. Secondly, it would have been too suspicious that the child died in the fire after the parent got the policy taken out. They would investigate, and all the witnesses who evacuated with him would testify that he wasn't even panicked about the child being left inside.

"He wouldn't have even said anything and the child would have been left inside if that old lady hadn't said something. I guess maybe she knew he had a kid and wondered where the kid was. I mean, best case scenario, none of the witnesses bother to testify in court, but unless he really did pull off the arson without getting caught, he would just end up in jail. The whole set up isn't very well planned; he's an idiot. At least the kid lived."

Jericho had been thinking since he walked away from the fire. Whether the man got away with it or not, it was also likely that the kid would die anyway. It was by chance that Robin had been nearby to notice the fire, and that the old lady had noticed their absence and pointed it out, leading to Robin rushing in to save them. Robin was there to save someone when no one else could, or would. Without a second thought, without any powers, he did it.

Once more, Jericho had been impressed with the instinct the heroes had to help people. This time, though, after the girl in the alley and his revelation about the other Cadmus kids, he understood. If Robin didn't run in when he had, the child would have died. Jericho knew it, and Robin knew it. That was reason enough for Robin to do what he did, and it made some sense to Jericho.

"Correct," Slade nodded. "Then, out of curiosity, if you were the man, what would you do instead to kill someone off to get the insurance payment?"

"I wouldn't," Jericho said without missing a beat. He kind of surprised himself in a pleasant way. Up until recently it wasn't an option to just say 'I won't.' There was no choice before now.

"Humor me. It might not be something you want to do anymore, but it's still a part of your life while you're working with me," Slade reminded him. Jericho shrugged.

"I guess kids would be harder to fake," he said. "You'd have to make it look like an accident, obviously, but also make sure no one could accuse you of negligence. I mean with adults it's easier to write things off as suicide, since adults do that sometimes, but kids don't. There's a lot of different ways that kids die at home by accident, but it's not like it's common enough to get away with doing it on purpose."

"Well thought out," the man complimented him. "I try to avoid any contracts involving children as a rule. Mostly the people who want children dead aren't the kind of people I like to work with."

Jericho nodded, feeling better. Slade wasn't a guy as bad as the guy who set the fire, in his eyes. Maybe he couldn't convince the man to help him with the Cadmus project, but at least he wasn't like everyone else who Jericho had been stuck with before. It made him happy to feel so safe for the first time.

That night, out on another run, Jericho arrived first. He waited on the roof where they were to meet, listening to nighttime sounds. He wondered what different cities in Europe would sound like. He felt hot, so he took his mask off, running fingers through his hair. Slade hated him to take it off outside their hideout, but if he got lectured for it later he'd live.

A figure landed on the roof, but it definitely wasn't Slade. Jericho straightened up, getting tense. He knew who it was and it wasn't someone he necessarily wanted to see. Robin stood at the other side of the roof, and the two quietly stopped and stared, the air tense between them.

Jericho didn't know if he should run. He felt confident that he could hold his own against Robin, probably even beat him, but he didn't know if Slade would rather he stay away. If Robin knew who he was and was here to try and take Jericho down, there might be trouble. Robin was a team player, and if he had his team around as backup, Jericho didn't want to fight all of them at once. His hand twitched, ready to grab a weapon if he had to, or a grappling hook.

Robin started to walk forward, and just as Jericho braced himself to act, a staff hurtled through the air, catching Robin between the shoulder blades. The Titan fell to the ground, gasping, as Slade landed on the roof behind him. He looked so fierce that even Jericho felt intimidated, and he regretted taking his mask off, knowing Slade would be more mad than usual, since Robin had now seen him. The man gave him a look that said ' _We'll talk later._ ' He walked up to Robin, picking the staff up off the ground.

"I don't know what the League said to you, Robin, but he's staying with me."

"Slade…" growled Robin, catching his breath. "What-?"

"Don't bother Robin," Slade said, standing at Jericho's side. "We're leaving your precious city soon enough. I've grown bored here. You and your friends are no longer a challenge."

Robin growled again, clearly taking it personally. The files had been right; Slade's mere presence seemed to push his buttons. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough breath in his lungs to respond.

"Let's go." Slade leapt from the roof, and Jericho followed after.

* * *

 **Did you guys realize that Teen Titans ended just over ten years ago with the release of Trouble in Tokyo? Insane, right? Makes me wonder what the heck I'm doing, writing fanfiction based around a character that was in two episodes of a show that ended a decade ago. Thank you, muse, for motivating me to write only the things that I least need to work on. Still good practice I guess. I don't know when I'll upload the last part, either when I feel like it or maybe like another month from now or whatever. My regular readers know by now what pace to expect. At least it's all written already so I can absolutely promise to upload it at any time rather than just waiting months to get to it... If the demand is great enough I could upload it like next week. Probably not though. Back to the whole fanfiction for a decade old show thing. Anyways, see you guys next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**And here's the final part to this story. I've officially bumped it up to an M rating, for mature themes and a little extra swearing at the end of this chapter. Nothing too graphic or descriptive, but definitely enough that I want to be careful with my rating so that there's no trouble. Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this story, as well as everyone who has come in at the end of the party. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Jericho did get berated for taking his mask off, and he did regret doing so. With the threat of the Justice League still looking for him, it wasn't wise to show his face to the Titans. Still, he felt conflicted. Would the Titans really be on the side of the League? Jericho wanted to believe that they wouldn't be, but he wanted to know for himself. Late one night, he hacked into the Tower database. It was something Slade had taught him, in passing. It wasn't something they'd needed to do at all until now, but if the Titans were actually trying to catch Jericho on orders of the Justice League, he wanted to know how much they knew.

He dug through Robin's files, searching through the 'villains' category. Thankfully Robin was very organized. However, Jericho didn't find his name in there anywhere, which seemed like a good sign… He only found an unnamed file attached to Slade's, added recently. There was little written in it, but it was enough.

 _Slade seems to have found a new apprentice. Raven and I both saw him on the roof near the fire [file here] and the next night I saw Slade jumping across rooftops and when I got ahead to cut him off, I found the same figure, but he had his mask off. He looked familiar but at the time I didn't know from where. He seemed tense, we both were. I don't know his MO but I know he's with Slade, and I know Slade does NOT want to lose him._

 _I don't know if he's with Slade of his own will or if the man has something on him to keep him there, like what happened with me, or even a bit like what happened with Terra. Slade has a way of manipulating and controlling people. I don't know who this is yet, but I want to find out. Unfortunately, Slade hinted that they were leaving town. I don't know if he meant it or if he's trying to make me let my guard down. Slade also mentioned the League, presumably the JLA. I'll have to try to investigate what he meant by it, but I have very little to go on so far._

 _As for the new apprentice, I think I saw him before. When I found Elsie and apprehended Bigfish [file here] there was someone else there who actually punched out Bigfish to save Elsie. I only got a glimpse of him, but I think it was the same guy who was on the roof with Slade the night after the fire. If he saved that girl, maybe he's not all bad. I'm going to keep a sharp eye out and see if I can run into him again, preferably without Slade there. Slade really doesn't seem to want me near him, which is very suspicious. If he's in danger, I want to be able to help him before it's too late._

There was that hero ideology again. He sat there and contemplated this, putting his headphones down on the table. Robin, who had only seen him from a distance three times, was concerned about him. Robin wanted to rescue him. Of course, Jericho didn't need rescuing, but Robin couldn't know that.

"I thought you had given up on your side project?"

Slade's voice startled Jericho slightly, and he jumped. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard the man come in.

"No, this is something else," he said, flustered, trying to think of an explanation.

"You're in the Titan's database?"

"Yeah, I- I know Robin saw me, and I wanted to know if he was looking for me on purpose."

"Stay away from them," Slade warned, using a dark tone. "They might seem harmless but don't put yourself at risk by getting anywhere near them. It's bad enough that he saw you."

"I don't think they know who I am," Jericho said carefully. "I says here that he didn't know what you meant when you mentioned the League."

"If he doesn't know now, he will soon enough," Slade said firmly. "He knows what you look like, and when he starts asking them questions, they'll put it together. Just stay clear of them until we leave, and you'll be safe. Don't risk so much for no good reason."

"No, sir, I won't," he agreed. It would be a risk, but he couldn't stop his thoughts from churning in his head.

* * *

Jericho started to get an idea, a crazy illogical idea. For days he tried to convince himself it was too risky, too dangerous. It made no sense, and yet he couldn't get it out of his head. What William had told him echoed in his thoughts as well, and he started to think that maybe this was something he was meant to do. It was frightening, but when he imagined actually doing it, he saw himself achieving everything he really wanted.

The more he pictured this future, the more he wanted it. Perhaps it was too idealistic after all, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting it. He thought about it more and more, terrified to ask, terrified of how it might go wrong, but the potential reward seemed worth all the risk. It wouldn't be easy to ask; not a single step in his plan would be easy for that matter. The first step, asking Slade, would have the lowest risk, and yet from here it seemed like the hardest part by far.

The moment came when his desire outweighed his fears.

He was trembling, but he wouldn't let anything stop him. "Dad?"

It was freetime by now, the day's work was over. Slade certainly wasn't expecting Jericho to come and see him. Not in his office space, and not with such a mortified look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

Jericho took a deep breath. He'd done that a lot, leading up to now, and he knew he'd keep doing it until this was over. "I need to ask you something, and I don't think you'll like it very much."

It was suspicious to say the least. Never, ten years ago or now, had Jericho been the type to do or say anything that might 'displease' someone, least of all an authority figure. What on earth could he possibly want that Slade wouldn't like?

"Go ahead, what is it?"

"I'm not ready to give up on the other Cadmus kids," Jericho said, with all the firmness he could muster.

"It means that much to you, then?"

"Yes sir," the blonde nodded. "It means more than almost anything else to me."

Slade raised an eyebrow. "Alright? I never told you that you had to stop looking. The conditions we agreed upon remain the same. However, you were struggling, and as much as it means to you, I wouldn't recommend going back to having such a time-consuming project for a while."

"I know I can't do both…." Jericho said quietly, bracing himself. As much as he wished it weren't true, Slade would be able to figure out what he was asking before he was brave enough to say it. Sure enough, the man frowned, his gaze getting a bit harder.

"You better not be asking what I think you are…."

Jericho swallowed, setting his jaw. If he was going to do this, there would be plenty of dangers to face, and fears to overcome. This was the first, and he would meet it head on. He bravely met the man's gaze, steely-eyed.

"I am. I've decided it's more important to me to stay and help those who need me, than to come with you on your next contract."

Slade frowned, looking annoyed, and even grumpy. He didn't understand where this was coming from. "You can't possibly think that you can handle such a task on your own."

"I know that too…" Jericho answered in a low voice, preparing himself to drop the worse news. "If you won't help me, then the Titans will."

Slade stood up quickly, anger in his eyes. Jericho was brave enough not to take a step back, but he couldn't say he didn't cower just a bit. Slade had never been angry at him before. He didn't know how the man would handle this anger towards him. He would face it, though, no matter how badly he didn't want to. He'd expected the anger.

"I _forbid it,_ " the man hissed. "You will not go anywhere _near_ those damned capes; _do you understand me?_ "

Jericho didn't answer. He couldn't find the words through his fear. He couldn't bring himself to say no, or even yes. It was all he could do to stand there under Slade's burning gaze. It was silent and tense for a full minute, at least. Jericho almost cracked under the pressure. Slade was more than angry, and he couldn't bear it a second longer.

" _Go. To. Your. Room…. NOW._ "

The teen didn't need to be told twice. He ducked away, keeping his head down like a scared dog, hurrying to his room without outright running for it. Tears welled up, making it impossible to see, and a lump in his throat made it harder to swallow or breathe. He thought he heard William call out to him, but it just made him bolt the last few feet into his room, his safe haven. He climbed into bed, nearly crying. Even in private, it was still hard for him to let go of his tears. He buried himself under his blankets, breathing roughly until he wore himself out and fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Jericho woke up and felt awful. He emerged from his room for breakfast, tense, and afraid of what might happen. Was Slade still angry? William did give him a lingering touch on the shoulder at the breakfast table. It was likely that he knew something about what happened, but he didn't say anything. Slade hardly said anything, either, being even quieter than usual throughout the day. They worked and trained as usual, with hardly a word spoken between them. It made Jericho feel bad and he couldn't put much genuine effort into anything.

He didn't like Slade being angry with him. Plenty of masters had been mad at him over the years; it usually didn't bother him this much. Still, he held out hope that Slade would soon change his mind, or that he had an opportunity to slip away. He didn't want it to happen like that; he'd rather have the man's permission, but it stayed in the back of his mind as a last resort. It made him feel sick. He didn't really want to give up his new life. He liked it here. It was scary to think of leaving, and he almost wished he could convince himself to forget the whole thing and go to Europe. He wanted to go, he just found it impossible to ignore what his heart was telling him to do. He wasn't going to give up on it yet.

Something was different tonight, though, a change in the routine. It threw Jericho off and made him feel even more uncomfortable than he had been. "Aren't we going out for a run tonight?"

"No," Slade said, looking at him with a frown. It was the most direct he'd been all day. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, and that means you are not to leave this base for the rest of our time here. You can spend the time doing whatever you like, but research outside of our next contract is hereby restricted."

It made Jericho's stomach drop. He looked down, and quickly walked away to go to his room. His chest felt tight, and he was trying to keep his thoughts together. It felt like everything was falling apart. He didn't expect this. He expected to be yelled at, maybe to be struck, but not this. He didn't know why it felt worse, like it was more than he could handle. He knew the man wouldn't like it, but he'd always thought that in the end Slade would let him go. Wasn't he supposed to be a father, not just a master?

Jericho was old enough to leave, he could take care of himself. Slade must hate the Titans more than Jericho had thought. He understood that the man didn't like them, but he did seem to think they were a good team? Slade certainly thought Robin was skilled. What was the problem with Jericho joining a skilled team, if that's what he wanted?

 _He's never going to let you go….. You're trapped with him now…_

Dark thoughts circled Jericho's brain as he sat quietly on his bed, in the dark. He started to feel a bit of a panic, when the door opened. He jumped, but when he looked up it was only Wintergreen. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the man seemed sympathetic. Jericho didn't say anything to him, just let him come in quietly. He tried to hold back some tears, but a few fell anyway.

"Your heart is in the right place," Will said softly. "I'm sorry that Slade is harsh- well, you understand that he just doesn't want to lose you again."

Jericho frowned bitterly, tucking his legs up and laying on his side. "I understand that…."

William frowned back at him. "I think if you give him time and space he might understand better. Truthfully, I don't want to see you leave, either. You've been with us for such a short time, it hardly seems fair… But I also want to see you happy. Slade just needs time to come to that conclusion himself."

Jericho gave a snort, staying quiet and ignoring Wintergreen for now. After a few moments of silence, the man left, and Jericho was once again sitting alone in the dark. He felt angry and upset at how unfair this all was. The man didn't want to lose him? The only people the blonde had ever met that wanted to keep him so badly were people he didn't want to be with. He didn't like the idea, it felt like he was a possession, like they owned him. He had thought for once it would be different but now he wasn't so sure.

* * *

Jericho changed after that. Within days it was clear that he was regressing back to his former self. He hardly spoke anymore, didn't even look up. Slade ignored the behavior, assuming that Jericho needed time to be grumpy about it before he got over it. He stood firmly by his decision, no matter what Will said…

"I'm not letting him go, William," Slade repeated himself for what felt like the millionth time. "I can't believe you're even vouching for it. You know how dangerous it would be if he got locked up like that again… And you can be sure that the Justice League would be extra careful to keep him where I can't get to him so easily. He can pout all he wants, I'm not letting him anywhere near a cape…"

Slade was genuinely frustrated at this point. Jericho's performance was suffering by now, but the man didn't know how to fix it. He didn't even know if he could really do anything besides get the boy to Europe and wait for him to get over the idea.

"I know the risk, Slade!" William snapped. He kept his voice low, however, because it was late at night, and while both were in a room far away from Jericho's bedroom, he still didn't want the boy to hear. "But you're going to lose him anyway if you keep treating him like this."

"What," Slade scoffed. "With discipline and structure? By protecting him from the only ones who would hurt him? Parents ground their children, Will. Just because he doesn't like it doesn't mean I'm the bad guy here. I don't need him to be happy about it and I don't need him to like me for it. All I need is for him to be safe."

"At what _cost_?"

Slade narrowed his eye. "If you think there's any cost too high to protect my son, you're wrong. If I have to drag him to France kicking and screaming I'll do it. He's my son, and I'm his father, and I will decide what he gets to do. I don't care if he doesn't have the slightest interest in following my career path. He can do what he wants, as long as he's kept away from those damned heroes and their warped sense of justice."

William frowned and glared back. "Are you really acting like a father? Or a master?"

Slade growled, hitting his fist against the desk where he was working, standing up at once. "Don't start, William! Just because I do my best to keep him safe does _not_ make me like them! Don't you dare compare me to them!"

It was silent for a few moments. Wintergreen was not intimidated, only frustrated. He still glared, with angry tears building up in his eyes. "You just don't see…. What you're doing to that boy."

Nothing more was said, but after Will left, Slade decided he'd had enough of this nonsense. Meanwhile, Jericho was deciding some things himself. Things weren't going they way he'd planned. The dynamic had shifted, and his attitude and actions changed accordingly. He knew it was becoming more and more like it used to be with each day.

For a little while, he'd been too depressed to do anything but resign himself to it. Soon enough, however, he decided he didn't want to do that. He'd spent so long doing as he was told, never fighting it, never running away. His time with Slade had taught him that he still had a will of his own, and it was alright to act on it. The only difference at this point was that this decision was not one Slade would let him make. So, Jericho knew he'd have to do some things he'd never done before. He had to fight for himself, and what he wanted. He had to try and run away again, for the first time in several years…..

The morning after Slade and Will's argument, Slade made an announcement.

"We're leaving tonight. Pack your things today."

The silence was tense and palpable. Jericho made no response, starting down into his oatmeal blankly. Inside, unbeknownst to the two men at the table, the gears in his head were turning quickly. This was the moment, his true test of bravery. It'd been hard before, but this would be more taxing on him in more than one way, he knew. He'd been preparing for this.

Leave at the last minute. Slade was unlikely to hold off leaving for Europe for long, since he had work to do. If Jericho ran away and stayed hidden for a week or so, the man would probably give up and leave. His work was very important to him. Jericho had been biding his time but hadn't expected the moment to come so soon or so suddenly. He wasn't as prepared as he would have liked, but it was now or never.

"I'm leaving," he said quietly. Tension rose.

"Yes," Slade said, in that warning tone. "We all are, tonight. I suggest you get your packing done as quickly as possible so we don't have to rush."

The blonde shook his head. "No… I'm leaving."

There was more sadness in his voice than defiance, but that didn't stop Slade from becoming angry again. " _Jericho…_ Don't make me have to force you. I don't want to do that."

"I don't want that either, dad," Jericho said just as softly, looking up at him. "I want to stay with you-"

"If you think you have any other choice, think again," the man cut him off, threateningly. "You're staying with me and that's final, even if I have to drag you by the arm."

The teen frowned sadly, looking down. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that. Sorry."

Jericho was a blur. In the next few seconds, there was a throwing knife in Slade's arm, and the former assassin was bolting out the door.

* * *

At age thirteen, the boy had been highly trained, to extremes. For the first time in a long time, he once again considered the possibility of escape. The first few years had been filled with fighting to get away, constant darts towards windows and doors, wriggling out of bonds, frantic, thoughtless fleeing. Back then, he had been too young and weak to get anywhere, and soon he wore himself out in a way. That and several beatings made him give up.

Now, a handful of owners later, there was trust. Down the line, his reputation for fighting it and trying to escape disappeared. He blended into his role very well, becoming numb to it, changing into a different person. The person they all wanted when they stole or bought him. He learned new skills, many he didn't want to learn but he knew he had no choice. And then, after being handed off to an organization that went by *S.P.I.D.E.R., he thought of using his skills for his own gain. He could escape, if he tried hard enough. This was a new place, they didn't know him. They hadn't seen all he could do, and he had no reputation. He could catch them off guard, with the element of surprise.

* * *

Jericho wished he could have been closer to the exit when he started running. Maybe he should have tried to sneak out rather than bolting away right in front of the man. It was too late now, of course. He went straight for the door; he didn't need to grab anything. He could survive with nothing, he knew how. He had a few weapons on his person, an old habit, though now he was down one throwing knife.

What Slade had in strength and endurance, he lacked in things like stealth and speed. A short enough distance, and Jericho was sure he could run away. However, he was starting to worry that it wasn't short enough. Their base was built inside a warehouse, so that the door to the base didn't lead directly outside. Instead, there were several hundred yards worth of empty space. Good storage for vehicles, but bad for running away from an angry Deathstroke the Terminator. The big open area left Jericho no real options to duck or dodge or throw any obstacles in the man's way. And that man was starting to catch up.

Jericho didn't let himself think about it. Get outside, and find a hiding place. Outside there were places to run that would slow Slade down. _Just get outside! Almost-!_

* * *

The concrete rushed up to meet him at an impossibly fast rate, and the blonde struggled violently against the men who had him pinned to the ground, cursing at them. Anger flooded through him, a lot of it directed at himself. He was angry that he hadn't made it, angry that he'd even tried in the first place. Angry that now he was caught and he was surely in for a bad first day. No, probably first _month_.

From the ground he could see little, but he did see the green leggings with black boots clicking along the floor as his new mistress approached. *Mortalla, the leader of this group.

"When one buys a dog," the woman said from above him. "Certain things are expected. If you pay for a dog that's already been trained, but then find out that it isn't, what do you do?"

She snapped her fingers, and the boy was lifted to his feet, held tightly. He was strong, but not strong enough to break free. He kept his gaze averted at first. Coming into the possession of a new owner was always tense, and he'd just made it worse. He never knew right away what anyone wanted with him specifically. A weapon, a soldier, a guard; it could be many different things. The albino woman grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up and meet her gaze.

"I paid too much money to get rid of you, so I'll have to retrain you myself," she said darkly. "A slight change of plans, but I'll make sure that you earn back the cost, one way or another."

She let go, turning on her heel and walking away. She gestured for them to follow, and the boy was left with no choice, being dragged along.

"You've got a pretty face," she said, throwing the boy for a loop. No one had said anything like that to him before, and it seemed very odd. He felt uncertain, and that made him tense. "Do you know what kinds of things kids your age have to do to survive out on their own? If you run away, life won't be easy for you. Constantly on the run, struggling to survive."

They arrived at a room, and she stopped, turning back to him with a wicked, angry grin. He suppressed the urge to tremble, bracing himself to face punishment stoically. He'd learned that it was always best to avoid speaking unless directly spoken to, and to not show fear, pain, or any other weakness. However, he had this horrible nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Something was wrong, in a way that it hadn't been before.

She unlocked the door, and he was taken inside. It sort of reminded him of a hotel room, with both bedroom furnishings, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. He didn't understand why an organization founded on destabilizing governments and creating chaos would have such a room in their hideout, but he didn't like it.

"I'm going to teach you what happens to little boys who run away. What's in store for you out there," she said, going to a cabinet and opening it to reveal a small, fully stocked bar. She started preparing some drinks. "Maybe then you'll know better than to try and run away, when you've got a nice place to live and work here, hm?"

She came back to him, holding a glass with something he hoped was water. She held it up to his mouth, and her eyes commanded him to drink it so he did, hoping it would make things easier to accept everything quietly. It was water, but it tasted kind of off. She watched him and within a minute, everything started to warp and distort and he felt dizzy. He groaned, and with a gesture, Mortalla had the two men holding him put him on the bed. He curled up on his side, eyes shut tight, trying not to throw up.

"Be good, I'll send in the highest bidder…"

He didn't understand what she meant, but passed out before he could think much about it. The next thing he knew, he was sitting up against someone, slowly waking up. Everything felt wrong…. A glass pressed to his mouth and he swallowed at once, feeling very thirsty. He regretted it immediately, as it burned his mouth and throat. Alcohol? He recognized the smell of it, and the added layer of 'fuzz' that seemed to develop in his brain was telling. The drug in the water had worn off, but not before someone tricked him into starting to get drunk. His senses were dulled, and he couldn't properly assess the situation. He just felt...wrong.

He weakly turned his head, and saw clothes on the floor. He recognized some of them. For the first time, he truly became aware of the person he was sitting up against. He felt their hands, and moved to push them away.

"Stop..." he croaked. He felt so disoriented, in so many ways. He was a trained assassin, not this. Fear swelled up in his weakened state, and he wanted to cry.

"I'm not stopping now," said a voice. It was muffled in the boy's ears, his mind still foggy and dull. "You're part of my payment, for a job well done. Let's see if you can do your job well too."

He whimpered as they moved, and suddenly there was a body on top of him, rather than behind. He groaned again, struggling like a newborn kitten against a wolf. He wanted to cry out, fight, scream; _anything_ to stop this, but he was defenseless, and hoarse. "Get…. off…"

* * *

"I said get the. _Fuck. Off!_ "

He screamed, lashing out at the figure who had him pinned once more on the concrete, this time in an empty warehouse. He knew who it was but at the same time he didn't. Memories played over reality, like double-exposed film, and everything was wrong. He didn't know where he was or what was going on, he just knew he had to get away.

 _Not again, please not again!_

He had a longer knife, now, and as he slashed against his attacker he was pleased to see blood splattering after. He scrambled to his feet but couldn't stay on them, falling back to the floor in his panic to get away. He crawled backwards, eyes on the man after him, focused only on protecting himself.

 _I'm sorry I ran away, I won't do it again, please!_

He didn't have the energy to run, tears blinded him, and his sobs left him without breath. He was too afraid to run, just wanting to be left alone. He tucked his knees up, hiding his face.

Slade knew a panic attack when he saw one. He didn't know what triggered it, and he didn't know what memories Jericho was reliving. All he knew was that his first priority was to calm the boy down again. He knelt by the teen, ignoring his handful of shallow wounds. Wintergreen waited back at the entrance to the hideout. He waited a few minutes, giving Jericho some time to remember where he was to prevent any additional panic. Then, he reached out to touch his shoulder.

"Jericho…."

His hand was harshly slapped away, and the teen looked up with a fierce glare. "Don't touch me!"

"Alright, I won't," the man replied, keeping his voice low and calm. "Do you know where you are?"

"Yes," he snapped. "I know I'm trapped here with you!"

Jericho had gone from terrified to enraged, all at once, a rapid shift in mood that only illustrated his current instability. This had gotten more out of control than Slade anticipated. He tried to think of some way that he could fix this, but had to admit to himself that he really didn't know how. He began to realize that there were a lot of ways Joseph needed help that he couldn't provide.

"Jericho," he started, "let's go back inside and talk."

"I don't _want to._ "

A big part of Slade wanted to take the boy inside, whether he wanted it or not, but he decided it would be better if he could convince Jericho to come on his own. He should try, at least.

"Then we'll talk here for a bit."

"Stop acting like you care!" Jericho said angrily. "You're just like all the rest; you only want me to work for you!" There were tears in his eyes, speaking of the betrayal he felt. "You don't care about what I want!"

Slade was losing his patience. He couldn't stand being told that he didn't care about his son. "It's because I care that I'm trying to keep you _safe._ "

"By locking me up?" he answered bitterly, glaring through the tears. "Forcing me to do what you want me to do and not even giving me a chance to do what's important to me? How is that any different from everyone else? _You were supposed to be different!_ "

Slade wanted to argue this point but he knew he couldn't. He knew he wasn't _as bad_ as the others had been, but if Jericho saw him that way, he couldn't tell the boy how to feel. He could only try to fix it. He let out a heavy sigh, wishing he knew the right thing to do. This wasn't working out anymore. He couldn't take Jericho to Europe now… It might just break him.

Here was his son, having a breakdown, and Slade could do nothing.

What could he possibly do if he was the cause of it?

"I tried to be different," he said. "I've done what I could to keep you safe and help you adjust. Joseph- I love you, I do. You're my son. I just haven't treated you much like one. I don't think I know how to be a dad anymore."

Jericho didn't say anything, having looked back down. He sniffled slightly, trying to control his crying. He didn't like looking weak in front of anyone, but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't control all this emotion coming up, the memories flooding his mind. It overwhelmed him, and he didn't want to deal with any of it for another second.

"I think we need to reevaluate a lot of things," Slade continued. "We won't be leaving tonight, but we do need to go back inside and sit down to talk."

Eventually, the blonde gave one nod, but didn't move. So, Slade reached over, scooping him up and carrying him back inside.

* * *

Jericho was tired. He felt that things were about to change and he wished they wouldn't. He wished he didn't care about the others. He wished he didn't want so badly to find them. If he didn't care about any of that, then he could have just stayed happy, with his dad, travelling the world, learning new skills, being more free than he had ever been.

He'd have kept that sense of freedom if he hadn't wanted to leave.

Slade carried him inside, and set him down on the couch. The man sat next to him and Jericho moved over, unwilling to end the physical contact. Besides carrying him out of the compound and taking him home, and not counting the few hugs, Slade hadn't actually held him before. Jericho had a vague sort of half-memory, too. An idea in his heart that the man hadn't done much hugging or holding even before he'd been kidnapped. Right now it was all Jericho wanted, sensing what was about to happen. Slade obliged, holding the teen on his lap like a child. It spoke volumes.

William left them alone, though he stayed in the next room. They needed their privacy for a moment, but they didn't need to hide everything from the eldest man. For a long time it was silent. Neither wanted to speak, and start a conversation. There were only a few places the conversation would lead, and none of them were what you'd call a win-win…

"Joseph…." Slade sighed. There were so many things to say, but he didn't want to. "You're doing much better than you were when I found you, but there's still a long ways for you to go. You aren't fully readjusted yet."

Jericho didn't say anything, but he was listening. He knew it was true… he knew that he was a little 'off' in a lot of ways, though he didn't have the proper perspective on how bad it was from where he was at.

"Like I said, you've done well, but you've reached a point where you won't be able to improve much further," he said. "You need more help, and I can't provide it for you."

"Dad…" his son whimpered."I don't want to leave. Really, I don't! Please…"

Slade gently hushed him, wiping away frantic tears. All of Jericho's reactions proved one thing. He was both emotionally stunted and overly matured. When you force a child to be a killer, the results aren't pretty. But, this was definitely more a child in his lap than an adult, despite what he might have gone through.

"It's alright… It's not about that anymore." Slade was silent again, gathering his thoughts. "When I found you I was angry. Angry at everyone who put you through what they did. Forcing you to become someone you weren't. I was furious. Now I've realized I'm not much better."

"Dad, I didn't mean it when I said-"

"It's alright," the man repeated, cutting off his apology. "Let me finish. I might not have been as harsh as the rest, and I might not have forced you to keep killing, but I still pushed you to keep living a life that wasn't yours. I didn't let you choose; and now the first choice for yourself you've tried to make I shut you down. After you finally realized there was something in the world you actually wanted to do, completely on your own, I let my personal feelings get in the way.

"I'm sorry for that, Joey."

Again, the teen didn't answer. He sniffled and hiccupped, but didn't say anything. He felt sad that Slade felt guilty, and while he didn't want the man to feel that way, he couldn't bring himself to argue. Slade was right, though neither of them realized it until now. Eventually he did speak up.

"I still don't want to leave you, Dad…. How can I live without you? After everything you've done for me?"

"What I've done is kept you in an environment in which you had no chance of truly healing. The life of a mercenary is a toxic one, and it would be wrong to keep you in it after everything that you've gone through," Slade said, sounding a bit bitter, like he was angry at himself. "It's not about whether you want to keep doing it or not. Just because you want to keep working with me doesn't mean you should. I was a blasted fool for letting you."

"Then-" Jericho looked up, "-don't go to Europe! Just…. Wait a while and stay with me until I'm better. Please, Dad?"

"It's not that simple, Joey," the man answered sadly. "There's too many loose ends to tie up before I can retire."

"Like what?" the blonde demanded, more tears falling. "What's in Europe that's so important?"

"I can't tell you."

"No! If there's something so important going on that you're going to _leave me_ ," his voice cracked with raw emotion, "then I get to know what it is!"

"Joseph," the man snapped back. "It's dangerous to tell you too much. Either you're coming with me and you find out, or you stay here, and a lot of people are going to ask you where I am. And you can't come with me."

"No," Jericho said again. "If you don't want to tell me everything, fine, but you can't just tell me nothing!"

"Alright!" Slade said with exasperation. "I'll tell you a few things. First of all, there's more than one contract. When I relocate, it usually means I'm going to a place where I know there will be a lot of work to pick up. Secondly, there are some people I am interested in checking up on while I'm there. Thirdly, and most importantly, I promised myself that I would hunt down everyone involved in kidnapping and harming you. There's a lot of leads pointing to a lot of people who have fled to Europe. Including a handful of Cadmus agents and scientists who left the States to continue their work."

Jericho stared at him for a moment. "You're… You're going to do that? For me?"

"Yes," Slade said. "It's still selfish of me, but I have my own sense of justice to follow. You want to save some forgotten children, and I want to annihilate the bastards who harmed them in the first place."

The teen was silent for a few moments once more, weighing this in his mind. He already knew he couldn't talk the man out of leaving, but that still left a lot of questions unanswered.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"You can't come with me," answered Slade. "But where you go is up to you. If you still want to go and join the Titans, then that's what you'll do. If not, we can think of somewhere else. As long as it's safe."

"You think the Titans are safe?" Jericho asked with slight disbelief.

Slade sighed. Clearly he didn't want to admit what he was about to say, but he said it all the same. "I think that they are a reasonable choice. There is, of course, a risk that the Justice League will get to you through them, but I know that the Titans prefer to work separately from other teams, especially the League. Robin has a need to prove himself, so it's not particularly likely that he'd cooperate with them on very many things. On top of that, while their trust can be hard to earn- especially when it comes to anything involving me personally -once you have it, you're one of them. They're loyal, and more likely to give you a chance to prove yourself, much unlike the League."

Jericho took another moment of silence to weigh this. He got the impression that Slade had known this the whole time. Had he hidden his true opinions to keep Jericho from leaving? Most likely. When he thought about it, though, he could sort of understand. All Slade had wanted was to keep his son in his life, far away from the people that had kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned him. That wasn't a bad thing, and if a lie of omission was what it took, then it didn't seem like such a steep price to pay. At least Jericho was learning the truth now, and hearing it made him feel less afraid about encountering the Titans.

"You think… I can get better if I live with them?"

"More than you can with me, at least," Slade said. "Perhaps it's not perfect. It's not having a normal life and it's not seeing someone professional, but I think it will be a big improvement."

Jericho gave a small nod. It might be nice to be around kids his age, especially if they had abilities and skills like he did. He started to feel better, and look forward to meeting them a little. There was still one thing that made him uncertain.

"Will you ever be back?"

"Yes," Slade said with certainty. "I will come back, I promise. We'll see each other again."

Jericho smiled, his tears starting to dry up. "I'd like that… But what if something happens?"

Slade thought for a moment before speaking again. "I might not be anywhere near you for a long time, but I promise I'll keep an eye out. I'll follow the news, tap into the Titan database- whatever I have to do to watch out for you. If something happens, and you need my help, I'll come back."

The blonde let out a soft sigh, feeling peaceful. Bittersweet, but calm. He closed his eyes, relishing this closeness. Slade was holding him close, one hand brushing gently over his curls. It might be a very long time before he got to experience it again, so he tried to remember every detail, from touch to smell. He was drifting off to sleep when a tear that wasn't his own fell on his cheek.

* * *

A few days later, and it was time. The father and son pair were outside together again, but this time in the daylight. They walked, side by side, towards the heart of the city. Neither spoke, there was very little left to say, and walking in silence seemed to somehow prolong the inevitable.

Jericho didn't have much of anything with him, just a backpack with his uniform, a few changes of clothes that he liked, and a sharp metal 'S' in his pocket. All gifts from his father, of course. It wasn't much, but it was the most he'd ever had to call his own. He couldn't stop himself from smiling, his hand touching the weapon in his pocket, reminding himself that this was all real. The sun on his face, his freedom, his father, the potential for new friends, and a true purpose of his own. It was all more than he'd ever imagined he could have. He had to blink back a few happy tears.

"This is far enough," Slade said, just outside the busier parts of the downtown area. "I don't need them seeing my face."

"Right," Jericho answered, taking a deep breath. He stood still, biting his lip, before looking up at the man.

"I'm leaving in three days," Slade reminded him. "If you change your mind, it's okay, but...I think you're doing the right thing."

Jericho grinned, his heart swelling. He gave his father the biggest hug he could muster, and Slade hugged him back just as tight. They held it for a little longer than either of them normally might, before the man spoke up again.

"I love you, Joseph. I'm going to miss you, but this isn't the last you'll see of me." He held the teen by the shoulders at arm's length, getting one last look at him. "I'm proud of you, son. You're going to do great."

"I love you too, Dad."

It was hard to step away, but he did. Slade watched him go for a moment, before walking away himself, disappearing into the backstreets and alleyways. Jericho walked, heart pounding with excitement and nervousness. He didn't even have a plan, so to speak. All he really knew that he was going to seek out the Titans, talk to them, and convince them to take him back to the Tower so that they could look for some missing kids that no one knew existed and whom Jericho barely remembered.

Yes, perfect, what could go wrong?

He shook away his doubts, determined to stay positive. He could do this, it was the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world. He walked to the park knowing that it was Sunday, and the Titans were known to have picnics on Sundays when the weather was nice and there were no crime alerts. Slade had put out the word that he wanted today to be a quiet day, and so far it seemed that the villains of Jump had listened. Jericho smiled to himself at the thought; too bad Slade was leaving and couldn't put a halt on all crime until the Cadmus kids were found. Well, the Titans were capable enough anyway.

Jericho walked into the park, found an empty bench near a field, and sat down. He wondered if he would look silly, waiting here on a bench with a backpack on. At least his uniform was tucked away; in broad daylight that would look ridiculous. He took the bag off, setting it by his feet. He sat back to enjoy the weather, and the outside air. He loved it outside. The grass was soft, the clouds were fun to look at, the trees were pretty…

He picked up a rock, scratching a doodle into the wood of the bench. It was already old and worn, so he didn't think anyone would mind a little drawing next to some crude words and pictures. He drew a leaf, carefully adding lines to make up the little 'veins' and giving it a long stem. From the stem sprouted more leaves. He thought they looked nice.

When he looked up again, his heart jumped into his throat. They were here. He looked back down quickly, not wanting them to see him staring. _Oh, hell, what do I do? I can't just walk up to them! I should have planned this better… Maybe pretend to rob a place to see if they come? No, no, that would look bad. I'm already Slade's son and former apprentice, I don't want them to see me doing bad stuff. Alright, maybe…. Wait for them to look over and wave? That's dumb, don't do that. Do they even see me? Are they looking?_

He glanced up again, and no one seemed to have spotted him. _Of course not, why would they?_ He dropped the rock and picked up a stick, beginning to break it into smaller pieces. _Maybe I should look at them? If they see me looking, that might get their attention. Robin knows what I look like, maybe he'll come talk to me again. Unless he thinks it's a trap? I shouldn't have brought a backpack, that looks really suspicious…._

He looked up a third time, trying to watch them without looking like he was watching them. _Wait, no, this is creepy; stop staring._ He looked to the side, but out of his peripheral vision he could see that it was already too late. They had spotted him- at least Robin had. The Titan leader was staring in his direction and it felt crazy uncomfortable. Robin was a bit intimidating and Jericho knew he did _not_ want the boy as an enemy.

Another quick glance; Raven was talking to Robin. Her figure was still, emotionless as ever, but somehow Jericho got the impression she was being stern with him. The other Titans had stopped what they were doing to check out what was going on. They all saw Jericho there, that was obvious. At that point he felt it would be silly to pretend that he wasn't watching them back, so he went ahead and did it, chewing on his lip.

Robin stood, arms crossed, while Raven pressed her fingers to her temples. Jericho got the shivers, sensing her getting a read on him. It was eerie, but he'd expected as much. There was no way they'd let him too near if they hadn't already checked him for threats in every way they could. He sat quietly, waiting, trying to look as harmless as possible, with a heart full of pleading hope.

Raven gave a nod, and Robin started walking over, alone. The rest watched carefully, tense. It reminded Jericho of their first almost-meeting, except this time he wasn't as afraid, and it was sure to end differently. Their was still an air of caution around Robin, but Jericho could see the hero attitude coming off him in waves. He remembered that Robin saw him as someone to save, and hoped that would be enough.

"Hey," said the masked teen, stopping a safe few feet away.

"Hi."

"Are you…."

"Yeah, that was me. All three times."

Robin seemed to consider this. "So… are you with Slade?"

"I was," Jericho remembered he should be honest. "I guess I just quit."

The Boy Wonder shifted, getting a bit closer, starting to relax a little. "He let you go?"

"He didn't really want to." Jericho shrugged. "But he decided it was what he should do. He's leaving for Europe in a few days, and I'm staying here."

Robin seemed completely dumbfounded. A lot of what this boy had just said didn't make sense at all. He took a moment to try and think of what to say next.

"Why did you leave? Why are you staying here?"

Jericho looked at him very seriously. "There's something I need to do that's more important."

"And what's that?" Robin asked suspiciously.

"I'll tell you, if you agree to help me," Jericho bargained. Robin turned his head a fraction, and soon Raven had come up beside him. Once more the blonde felt her presence in his mind, and tried not to resist it too much.

"He shows no signs of lying," Raven said, seeming surprised. "What's going on?"

Robin was silent again, thinking. Considering their options. "Why are you out here? You had to have known we might see you. What is it that you want that made you part ways with Slade?"

"Actually I was hoping I'd run into you," Jericho admitted. "Slade can't help me. Only you guys can."

The air was tense again. The Titans were weighing the risk in their minds, Jericho knew. He had to convince them, but what should he say?

"What are you trying to do?" Robin asked again. Jericho hesitated, and then decided to tell them just enough.

"There's a lot of kids that have gone missing. Kids that no one has any real record of. I'm one of the only ones who knows about them, and I need to help them. But I need your help to do it."

Raven was staring hard at him, and he didn't shrink away. Eventually she said, "He's still not lying. Robin?"

The Titans' leader thought carefully. This could very easily be a trap, even if this boy didn't appear to be lying. There were so many ways this could be one of Slade's plans, just like with Terra. They couldn't take any risks, but if what he was saying were true… They had to give him a chance.

"You understand that if you come with us, it won't be as a friend right away? You've had close connections to one of our worst enemies. We can't take any risks if we work with you."

"I know," the blonde said, calmly. "I understand, but this is important. Do whatever you think you need to do, I'll cooperate." Did Jericho like the idea of being taken prisoner, even with the Titans? Not at all. But he knew he would have to sacrifice his newfound freedom for a chance to give it to others who might need it.

Raven nodded again to signal that Jericho was being honest, seeming to be in as much disbelief as Robin.

"Alright. Then, Raven will take you back to the Tower. Leave your bag with me, if you don't mind. If there's nothing dangerous, you'll get it back."

"I understand. It's just clothes; and my uniform." The utility belt had even been cleaned out and emptied, for this exact reason. For the first time, Jericho was unarmed. He felt a bit vulnerable when he thought about it, even though he was perfectly capable bare-handed.

Robin nodded, lips pursed, picking up the bag. Jericho stood up, nodding to Raven to signal that he was ready. Lastly, she nodded, and her shadow came to life, engulfing them and rising up to fly quickly through the air towards the bay. Robin watched them go, as his other teammates ran up, demanding to know what happened.

They were all taking a risk. It was illogical, but taking risks is what heroes did, after all.

* * *

*The Society for Political Instability and Diverted Economic Resources also known as **S.P.I.D.E.R**. was an international crime organization based in a hidden grotto near the Riviera. The eight "legs" of the organization were devoted to Arson, Drugs, Extortion, Fraud, Gambling, Theft, Assassination, and Terrorism.

The organization was led by a green costumed albino woman named **Mortalla**. S.P.I.D.E.R.'s stated intention was to ultimately destabilize all world governments and then use the chaos to make themselves rich. Most of Mortalla's operatives wore standard green, yellow, and red uniforms but her division chiefs, including the Spider and the Widow had distinctive costumes. S.P.I.D.E.R.'s first and only appearances were in _Catwoman_ #48 and #49.

* * *

 **So, there you go! There will be a third part to this series, but it's going to be a chaptered story so I need time to write it. I'm not sure when I'll start posting, I'd like to at least get a good chunk of it done so that I can post regularly and not leave people waiting. First I have to finish my other chaptered story, Reunions, which is coming close to its end. If you like seeing Jericho and Slade in a story together, then you might like that if you haven't checked it out already. Be warned, I started it five years ago and it shows; my writing has improved over the years.**

 **Anyway, I hope everyone liked it! If you want to keep an eye out for the next part you can just follow me and you'll be the first to know when I post it. Hint: the title will follow the same pattern as this and the first installment to this series. If you liked this, I'd love to hear about it as well, if you're willing to leave a review. Until next time!**


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